Golden Bat
by robster72
Summary: Complete. James Bond crossover. Wayne Corp is implicated in a plot that could have world wide reverberations. James Bond is assigned to resolve the issue and terminate Bruce Wayne! All reviews welcome!
1. The mission

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter. All reviews welcome!

**Golden Bat – Chapter One**

Moneypenny glanced up as the door opened and pursed her lips together. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of a smile. The womanising old goat that he was. James Bond gave a smile and handed her a single rose.

"Only a single rose?"

"For just a single smile?"

Despite herself she gave a small smile. Bond pulled out a bunch of roses.

"What do I get for thirty?"

There was a beep sound from the desk intercom and an exasperated voice. "Stop holding up 007, Moneypenny, and send him in."

"Yes, sir, sorry sir," she said and sat down. "You'd better go in James."

* * *

James Bond grasped the door handle and walked into the room. There sitting down was the head of British Intelligence Admiral Sir Miles Merservey, known as M. 

On a video screen behind M was the huge visage of Felix Leiter, the head of American Secret Service.

Leiter's face cracked into a smile as he saw Bond. "Hey Jim, how's it going?"

"Sit down 007, sit down," said M tetchily. "You two can socialise in Gotham."

M passed a brown file over to James Bond. He looked at the cover. There were three signatures there. One of the Head of the American and Caribbean Section, one of M himself and one of Felix Leiter, although why the Americans would be involved he didn't know unless it was to do with one of their citizens? Above the signatures was the words Licence to Kill. Those three little words had sent more men to their graves than he cared to think. He opened the folder to see who his target was. He raised his eyebrows slightly at the name.

Bond placed the file on the table. "What's he done wrong? Why am I being sent out? If he is an American citizen shouldn't your CIA do something about him?" He looked up at the screen.

"He's too highly placed for us to be able to do anything about him, government won't authorise it. We've had word from Nicholas Bennett he's a…"

Bond interrupted him. "Software billionaire in Gotham. He started off developing computer systems, got pushed out of the market and then set up a software company. They design and implement accountancy systems. He owns property all over the world including Gotham, New York, Paris and London."

"Okay 007 we don't want a biography…"

A picture of another man replaced Leiter's on the screen. "We've been investigating this man for some time. His company has a $10 billion turnover and generates about $400 million dollars profit a year."

"Living the American dream."

"He has several accounting irregularities."

"You need the tax man, not me."

"Also technology and armaments from his factories and depots goes missing on a regular basis."

"Get in a police man."

"A new highly armed, well equipped, criminal group has started up. His firm has developed a lot of their equipment. They have hold of a nuclear weapon we believe from Tajikistan. Nicholas Bennett says this man is responsible, our initial investigations back up this claim."

"What are their demands?"

"We have heard nothing from them as yet," said M. "We want to end this before it begins. You will liase with Bennett and Leiter in Gotham. Your mission is to find that nuclear weapon and terminate Bruce Wayne, immediately."

* * *

Later in the day and on the other side of the Atlantic, "Matches" Malone AKA Bruce Wayne was resting his arm on the bar of a very disreputable bar. The place was thick with smoke and the smell of whisky and beer. He was in disguise collecting information about Gotham's low life's. His ragged sleeve mopped up the beer that was pooled on the bar. He finished his drink and raised his hand to try and get the bar man's attention. He was currently serving someone else. Bruce got out a ten-dollar note and started waving it in the vain hope it would make a difference. It didn't. He tried coughing, easy to do considering the atmosphere of the place. Still no response. An attractive woman in a tight dress walked up to the bar and immediately got served. 

No justice, he thought as he looked about the bar, but not entirely surprising. He could see his reflection in the mirror. He was dressed in a disreputable old coat and jeans that looked like he had been the loser in a cat fight and the winner had urinated on him. Alfred hated these clothes and Bruce had to physically hide them to stop him cleaning and darning them. To be fair what Alfred really wanted to do was burn them and bury the remains in the vegetable patch.

The coat was an effective disguise so much so that an old vagrant had pushed a five-dollar bill into his hand outside before he had a chance to stop him. Eventually Bruce got another drink and he carried on looking at the people in the bar. He put a foot down on the carpet below and his shoe nearly stuck to the carpet. He was currently lip reading via the bar mirror what two men were talking about near him. One of them was Tony Valetta, he had never seen him before but he knew of him. Most of the stories told in this bar about him were lies of course but there was always one thing that was always the same.

Valetta was a stone cold killer; he was hired as a hit man for some of the gangs in Metropolis. It was said he never he lost his temper and he never took more than one bullet to a hit since he never missed. His cold blue eyes scanned the bar as he was talking; Bruce kept his own eyes down and tried to look as unobtrusive as possible. He was planning something that was for sure. Bruce concentrated on lip reading. They were meeting someone in the alleyway soon. Valetta looked at his watch, he was looking nervous. The other man with him was Christian Mitchell, a huge ape of a man with two days worth of stubble and clothes that had been the wrong side of a laundry basket for too long. He was just a gofer for Tony Abretti, one of the big mafia dons of Gotham.

Valetta and Mitchell finished their drinks and walked out of the bar. Bruce put his glass to one side and followed them. They walked straight past the toilets and through a fire door to the alley way outside. Bruce followed them quietly and then immediately knew he had made a mistake, and not just a small mistake. In fact if a mistake were a mountain it would be the Mount Everest of mistakes with possibly Mount Helena on top for effect. The sort of mistake they would write on your tombstone, although to be fair most people who made this sort of mistake didn't have a tombstone because they were normally spread over about 50 of Tony Abretti's fast food joints.

Bruce looked around the alley and could see about 15 of Tony Abretti's henchmen. Tony Valetta was on the ground breathing his last, his face a rictus of pain, his blood pooling and steaming on the ground. Rivulets of blood collected by Bruce's brown scuffed shoes. Tony Abretti himself was just lowering the silenced gun that had brought about Valetta's untimely demise.

They all turned around to look at Bruce as he walked through the door. Bruce put his hands up as about ten guns faced him. Unseen by all of them he pressed a small button in his cuff…

* * *

"Ring, ring." 

Robin was currently hanging upside down above a hostage situation in an old warehouse near the docks. He turned off the communicator. Bruce would have to deal with the problem himself. These thugs were just about to execute an old man hostage unless the police outside left the area. The criminals had been caught in the middle of a break in at this warehouse by the night watchman, the one they were just about to shoot. The problem was the criminals wanted to leave and the police wanted them to leave. You would have thought both their aims dovetailed beautifully and a good psychologist, or even a good chat show host, could probably get both groups talking to each other to realise that both their jobs depended on the other and they would probably really like each other if they met each other socially, maybe at a game of pool or poker or even cribbage (which despite its name is not the sort of vegetable your mother tries to force on you but is in fact a card game). However the police were rather insistent on the criminals going to jail and the criminals were rather insistent that they didn't want to go to jail. This was where they had a small divergence of opinion.

"We got the place surrounded," said Gordon through the megaphone. "Throw your weapons out first and walk into the light."

"No chance," shouted Addison, through the broken window. A red light showed the window as a police sniper got into position. Robin carefully crawled the struts towards where the criminals were. He was not in the right position to take them out yet.

"We got a nice warm cell waiting for you boys."

"We've already got a nice warm flat waiting in down town Gotham. It's got carpets, chairs and we have a key."

"The cell has got waiter service. Toilet right by the bed, you don't even have to walk to the bathroom. Luxury! And we have a lot of your old friends there to talk to as well. We don't give you a key I'm afraid"

Addison and the other two thugs had a quick chat. Addison walked back to the window. "You got cable? We don't want to miss CSI – Miami?"

"Not yet," shouted Gordon, "but it is on our list. Possibly next year."

"How long would we get?"

"That's up to the judge."

"Well our flat has half a cold pizza on the table and two cans of cold lager in the fridge." There was an urgent comment from the man behind him. "Sorry one can of lager. Can you beat that?" There was another whispered comment from the man behind Addison. "Can you have a bubble bath in jail you know with one of those bath bombs. The ones that fizz and leave you smelling of lemon?"

"No."

Robin carried on quietly crawling through the struts of the warehouse towards the men. These talks went on for some time and at the moment they had "irretrievably broken down", a rather quaint phrase bringing to mind old washing machines and cars but in this case meaning both sides couldn't talk to each other without raised voices, swearing and insisting it was all the other persons fault. So much so that the criminals had decided that executing hostages was the way to force the police outside to leave. They hadn't given much thought to what they would do afterwards since he was their only hostage. As they raised their guns towards theold night watchmanRobin dropped the twenty feet to the ground and started handing out some serious hospital time.

* * *

Alfred looked contentedly at the oven, it was his evening off and he planned to enjoy it. The clock above the oven showed the timer counting down. Thirty-seven minutes. He reached over to his book "Jeeves Takes Charge" by P G Wodehouse and got ready to chuckle. 

"Surfin' USA" ring tone rang out. He muttered to himself and picked up the mobile. Oh, this was the emergency number. He clicked the green button and could hear.

"What should we do with the bastich?"

"Knock him out and give him to Ali Nassau. By this time tomorrow he would have fed Gotham's east side."

There was thumping sound and the distinct sound of a body falling down. A chill ran down Alfred's spine. This was serious. Why hadn't Robin picked up the call? He tried to ring him but voice mail cut in straight away. He either couldn't answer or wouldn't answer. He didn't like either of those options. Nightwing was out of town and he didn't have Batgirl's phone number.

He looked at the oven, in thirty-six minutes the bread would burn. He could turn the oven off but the yeast was already making the bread rise, if he did that he would ruin it.

He pressed a hidden button on the phone. The small screen on the front showed a map of Gotham and a blue dot showed Bruce Wayne. He would have to get him back himself. He ran out of the kitchen to the hallway to the clock and changed the hands to the time when Bruce's parents had been murdered. The door creaked open and Alfred ran down the stairs towards the Bat cave. The car was parked in town somewhere. That just left the motorbike. He picked up a black helmet from the side and put on a black leather jacket and got on the motorbike.

There was a deep throaty roar as the engine caught. He had spent time as a courier in the army and was well used to motorbikes. The bike roared up the ramp towards the exit, a button press later and the exit door opened and he shot out onto the road. Alfred plugged the mobile into a socket on the bike and a small screen lit up in his helmet showing him a map of Gotham and the location of Bruce. Bruce's signal was starting to move showing that they were moving him. A countdown was showing in the bottom right hand corner with how long he had until the bread would burn.

* * *

Bruce woke up to a throbbing headache that was not being helped by being thrown around in the back of a van. He knew better than to move too much since he didn't know who else was in the back with him. He tried to open his eyes but his left eye was gummed shut by his blood. His hands were tied up behind his back and his mouth was full of sawdust. Why saw dust? Must be a meat van. He couldn't hear anyone else so he looked cautiously around him. Above him he could see several beef carcasses hanging by hooks from the roof. On one hook was hanging Tony Valetta. His face thankfully covered by a black hood. 

Bruce felt in his cuff for a razor wire he always kept there. In seconds he was cutting through the rope that was binding him. The van was a refrigerated one and a thin layer of ice was covering everything. The van came to a halt, the sides of beef clattering against each other. There was a sound of the van door opening.

* * *

Alfred looked down at the screen. The blue dot had stopped outside a place in the East side of Gotham. He raced up a side street jumped a red light and narrowly missed decorating the front of a saab. He needed to be the other side of the block now! He crashed through a charity shop sending shop dummies and clothes racks flying. Alfred promised himself they would have a large anonymous cheque sent to them soon. The bike collided with the door at the back sending it soaring off its hinges. He had a quick glance at the terrified faces of the shop workers as he smashed a small table sending magazines and mugs of tea through the air. The back door was open and he went zooming out the back and jumped the five steps to the ground and he was in a dark alleyway leading to the road where Bruce's signal had just stopped. 

A gang of hoodlums were just about to mug a businessman when Alfred scattered them and sent them scuttling to safety in various doorways. Several bags of rubbish exploded as he drove over them and old crisp packets and milk cartons rained down gently into the alleyway.

In front of him was a "Finger lickin' Southern fried Chicken" outlet and he could see the van with Bruce in it there. He saw two men open the van door and pour bullets into a body lying in the back of the van. He could see the body twitch and jump as the bullets struck home.


	2. A typical Gotham welcome

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and all my reviewers! All reviews welcome!

**Golden Bat – Chapter Two**

"No!" He gunned the bike and side swiped it into the two thugs throwing them into the back of the van. He looked down at the body in the back of the van. There were rents and blood in his clothing where the bullets had hit home.

"Hello Alfred," said another voice. Alfred looked up and could see the body hanging in the back remove the black mask and Bruce's reassuring features appear. "I didn't think you were on call today?"

"Yes, well, problems with the rota."

"You couldn't drop me off at the car could you? I've got to pay a visit to Tony Abretti."

Alfred looked down at his watch. Ten minutes till the bread will burn. "You can walk to the car. This is my evening off, sir."

* * *

James Bond stretched his legs as he walked off the plane. He was feeling fairly light-headed from the in-flight champagne but not enough that it affected his judgement. He looked down at the bit of paper that was in his hand. On it was a hastily written name and phone number of one of the airhostesses. He even flirted on autopilot now. With the nature of his job he took love where he could find it. This assignment did not promise enough time for that, though. He crumpled up the paper and threw it on the floor, there would be others, there always were. This looked like being just a simple hunt and kill assignment, with any luck he would be back in London in 24 hours.

There was something about the assignment that made him uneasy, though. Not the being used as an assassin part. He had no qualms about ending a life of evil, but the whole assignment seemed too rushed and in his experience the less information he had to go on the more things would go wrong.

As he walked out of the plane he could see the Gotham skyline and a smoke like haze hanging over it. The skyscrapers looked like rotting teeth and the smell was similar. He knew this town had a band of guardians that did not look kindly on murder. No matter. He would not be here long enough for them to notice him.

Now he was here he had to meet up with Leiter and his contact. Having diplomatic immunity meant he had just breezed through customs, which was fortunate considering what he was carrying…

Bond clicked open his mobile phone and scrolled down to Leiter's number. "Leiter, it's Bond. We need to meet up."

He listened for a few moments and then nodded. "I'll meet you at the Gotham Plaza in thirty minutes." He clicked the phone shut

He walked out of the airport to a line of yellow cabs outside. Bond opened the cab door and got in.

"Gotham Plaza and there will be an extra $100 in it for you if you do it in ten minutes." First rule of being an agent if you have to be somewhere at a certain time, be there early to check the place out.

* * *

Bruce Wayne was sitting in the Batmobile. He put the cowl over his head and immediately felt the change that signalled Batman had arrived. Now to pay a visit on Tony Abretti. He pressed his foot down and heard the reassuring sound of the V8 engines catching. He had placed a small radio transmitter on Abretti before he had been knocked out. He pressed a button the dashboard and a screen lit up with a small light indicating where he was.

The Batmobile roared off up the street.

* * *

"You in a hurry there, man?"

"Just keep driving, please."

"You sound English to me?"

Why does everyone assume English? "Scottish actually."

"You one of those guys who wears a skirt?"

Bond looked out the window. He had memorised a Gotham street plan on the plane before he landed. "We are not all William Wallace. This is not the way to Gotham Plaza, you're going to the docks."

"Short cut, man." The taxi screeched to a halt in a deserted alleyway. Gotham docks was just at the end. He turned around and pointed a small snub-nosed pistol at Bond. "If you've got a hundred to blow on a cab ride you got more. Let me see some greenbacks, boy, or else I shoot you and dump your sorry ass in the harbour."

"Is this the traditional Gotham welcome?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to make a livin', boy. Don't make me shoot you, you'll ruin the upholstery."

Bond suddenly concentrated on the job in hand. The man had a small goatee and several beads of sweat on his forehead. The gun hand was shaking. That was not a good sign. He was clearly an amateur, he would most likely shoot him in a nervous twitch rather than professionally. The gun was a small snub nosed, six-shooter. He couldn't see the bullets from here but he had to assume it was loaded. He had not the space to move out of its way.

Bond reached casually into his jacket pocket.

"Careful mister. One wrong move and I'll blow your head clean off."

"Calm down. I'm getting my wallet." Bond could feel the reassuring weight of his own gun. It was in his shoulder holster though and from where it was now it might as well be a million miles away. Damn it, he could not believe a street thug had the jump on him.

"Easy…"

At this range a bullet would go straight through Bond and through his nice upholstery. Bond had seen too much death not too imagine himself writhing with pain as the bullet struck. "See, it is just a wallet…"

"How much you got? Let me see the green!"

Bond carefully opened the wallet; the man reached an arm towards it, and Bond acted. He grabbed hold of the man's gun with one hand and yanked it towards him whilst pointing it towards the seat next to him.

There was a huge bang, deafening in the enclosed space, and Bond elbowed the thug in the face. The gun fell to the floor of the car amongst all the old cigarette stubs and sweets wrappers. The taxi driver didn't flinch much at this and turned around in his seat to get a better attack at Bond.

Bond was an exceptional fighter. He had been trained by the best and had years of field experience, however no one had taught him how to fight in a Gotham cab. He could not get the leverage to knock the other man out.

In the struggle the taxi driver put his foot on the accelerator and car lurched out of the alleyway. It was that which saved the thug from being knocked out. Bond lurched back on the seat, the upholstery still smouldering from the bullet strike. The car scraped along the wall, sparks flying. Bond recovered his balance and got the thug in a neck lock.

The car jolted violently as it went over several chains lying on the road. He looked out the window and gasped in shock. The car was heading towards the edge of the dock. He tried the door. Locked. His stomach felt like it was holding a gallon of cold water as the car lurched towards the edge.

He cursed under his breath. The thug was knocked out, his foot still on the accelerator. The car was heading towards a watery grave.

Bond struggled to get to the front of the car by squeezing between the seats. The tobacco stains on the seat would give the dry cleaners some serious work on his suit. He yanked one-handed on the hand brake and the car started screeching to a halt. Smoke erupted from the tyres filling the air with the smell of burning rubber. The engine was still running. Bond tried to push the man off the accelerator.

This would be a really bad time for the thug to wake up, but unfortunately this is just what he did. He tried to elbow Bond. He ducked but space was limited and it caught him on the forehead making him dizzy. Bond was pretty much in the front seat now and he punched the man viciously in the throat, making the driver turn a mottled shade of purple. Bond kicked the door open and threw himself out before the cab lurched over the edge of the dock and fell into the water. Only his parachute training made him roll with the impact and prevented a serious injury.

Bond got to his feet.

"Bon voyage," he said as he straightened his tie. The car was at the surface. There was a big belching sound as water rushed into the cab and it started sinking rapidly. Bond could see the thug looking up at him imploringly before he sank with the car. Tough break for him, but he shouldn't have started what he couldn't finish. Bond turned around when he saw a small flash of red out of the corner of his eye.

There was a splashing sound in the harbour and Bond could see a loose line flap against the side of one of the dock warehouses.

He looked down with surprise at where the car was rapidly sinking. There was some huge bubbles as the air pockets in the car rose to the surface and then nothing. Just a rapidly increasing circle of cigarette stubs.

Suddenly a boy dressed in a red costume and with a small mask came to the surface with the thug in his arms. With a strength belying his size he dragged the thug up the dock face to where Bond was standing.

This must be one of Gotham's guardians. One of the trainees, probably Robin, he thought.

"Hey, call an ambulance, man," said Robin as he started CPR on the thug.

Robin was busy trying to get a pulse from the man. Bond reached into his jacket pocket for his gun. It made sense to kill Robin now. If he had to terminate Bruce Wayne the only people who could probably stop him was these costumed vigilantes and he had the edge on one now…

* * *

Batman slowed his car down outside Tony Abretti's house. He finished a quick conversation with Gordon over the phone. They had enough to bring Abretti in but he knew he had a small army in there with him. Gordon was loathe to risk his men's lives to bring him in especially if he could use Batman to do the same job…

The roof slid open and he fired a grappling hook to the top floor. The motor in the device quickly winched him up three floors to the penthouse where Abretti was. He balanced on the window ledge; the wind pulling on his cloak and threatening to pull him off the building. He quietly levered the window open and with a cracking sound it opened.

Noiselessly he crawled into the room. Despite his best efforts the wind outside rustled the paper on the desk and was just about to slam the door. With a lightning quick throw of his batarang he jammed the door open. Like a ghost he walked to the doorway. He listened for half a minute. No sounds of life outside. No coughs, no shuffles of feet and no talking. He sniffed. He could smell no cigarette smoke, no cooking smells or sweat. There was the slight aroma of coffee. South American, Chilean if he had to guess. Probably drunk in this room not five minutes previously.

He walked into the well-lit hallway and looked up and down the corridor. A door opened at the end of the corridor and a small child looked out and immediately screamed as she saw what looked like Dracula's older, nastier brother standing in the corridor. Batman knew a hundred ways to silence an enemy at a distance, but none to silence a child.

"MOMMMMYYYY!" She yelled. "MONSTER!"

Batman raised one finger to his mouth to try and silence her. This did not work. What normally silenced children? A toy! He checked his utility belt. Gas pellets, grappling hooks, exploding batarangs, bugs (not the crawling kind, sadly) and several drugged darts. It was tempting to use the darts, he thought as the sound, which he thought had reached its limit somehow went up twenty decibels.

"DADDDDYYY!" she yelled, going a curious shade of red. Now her eyes and nose were starting to leak tears and Batman didn't want to know what from her nose, but it was a disconcerting yellow colour. She looked like an extra from "The Exorcist".

Another door opened in the hallway and a small boy joined in the wailing, he couldn't reach his sister's decibel level but it wasn't through lack of trying. This was starting to go from bad to worse. He had enough gadgets and weapons to take out a small army but none to entertain two small children. He could hear the sounds of doors opening and men running up the stairs towards him. He couldn't fight with children present. He could not allow innocents to be hurt.

He looked above him. There was an attic hatch. Batman did what a lot of men did when encountering small noisy children. He escaped. He leapt for the attic hatch and in seconds had clambered into the small roof space. The wailing sound from the children diminished and he heard the even less reassuring sound of men pounding up the corridor.

This was shortly followed by the sound of a gun's safety catch being turned off. To Batman's trained ears it sounded like an AK47. Fear crawled down his spine like an icy spider as he thought it might be the last sound he ever heard.


	3. Bruce Wayne is guilty

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Three**

Bond took his hand off his shoulder holster. He knew he was being a damned fool. These vigilantes probably had the skills and techniques to stop him in his assignment but he did not like cold murder of innocents. Especially not of children and in spite of his obvious strength and skills Robin was still a child.

Robin looked up at him. "Are you calling the ambulance?"

Bond reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a phone. He was going to press "999" when he realised it was "911" in America. That he even had to think about it showed that the fight with the thug had disorientated more than he cared to think about. In seconds he had summoned an ambulance.

He leaned over the thug. Some colour was starting to come back to his face and he was starting to cough violently.

"That's strange," said Robin, looking in the man's wallet.

"What is?" Said Bond.

"Nothing, nothing," said Robin. "I've got to go. You should talk to the police about this guy." The boy aimed a grappling gun at the nearby warehouse and within seconds was on the roof. Bond looked at the warehouse. "Wayne Tech Enterprises." Was written on the side. He could see several police cars around the other side of the building taking away three people. Robin must have caught them breaking into the warehouse.

He could see several police officers running towards him. He quickly picked up the man's wallet and looked at it. It had the identification of Kelvin Russ and according to the id he worked as a security guard for Wayne Tech Enterprises.

Now was the time to leave, he did not want to talk to the local police. He got his phone out again and dialled Leiter.

"Hello Felix. I hate to bother you but I've had a spot of bother at the docks."

He grinned to himself as he heard Felix's idea of why he had been down the docks.

"No, not that. Someone tried to kill me. No. Not a jealous husband or a disgruntled boyfriend a common street thug hired by Wayne Tech Enterprises. They breed them tough in Gotham." He looked at his watch. "I'll meet you in twenty minutes. I'll get another cab."

* * *

The ceiling erupted next to Batman as bullets tore through the attic floor. He grabbed hold of a ceiling joist and threw himself at great speed down the end of the attic. The air was full of dust and chunks of tiles started falling down from the roof as the thugs perforated the roof. He saw the attic hatch open and a man pointed a gun at him for two seconds. He would have pointed it at Batman for longer but a batarang was sticking out of his hand. He opened his mouth to scream when a line wrapped around him and dragged him into the attic. Four seconds later he was lying unconscious at Batman's feet.

Batman stamped down on the weakened ceiling and came crashing through into the hallway in a welter of dust and debris. Two men were standing there with guns. Before he had hit the floor they were both knocked out with drug tipped darts in their necks. A door opened the other end of the corridor and he span around and threw a weighted batarang at the man.

* * *

Bond walked into the plaza hotel. There sitting in a comfy chair at the reception was Felix Leiter and there was another man standing next to him. Leiter looked like a real rogue especially since his hand had been replaced by a hook after one of his missions. He was busy trying to hold a cigar in his hook and talk to Bennett at the same time. He had sat down in the corner of the reception room so he could see everyone who walked in. He stood up when he saw Bond walk in.

"Jim," said Leiter cracking a smile. "Good to see you again. This is Nicholas Bennett. He's the guy who's been feeding us all the information."

Bennett was a thin pale man with thick glasses. "Hi. You must be the man from England. Gosh. I don't want to be a concern about this. I mean it may be nothing. It probably is nothing. I don't want people to blow things out of all proportion. I mean he is a pillar of the community. He wouldn't be involved in anything bad. Certainly not that bad."

"We're not going to talk here Nick," said Leiter. "Come on Jim. We've got a private hotel room."

Bond indicated Bennett to follow Leiter. Bennett scurried after him. They got in the lift all the while not saying anything. They walked into room 76. Bond and Leiter immediately got out small gadgets from their pockets. They checked every square inch of the room.

"What are you doing?" Asked Bennett, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Checking for bugs. Don't you worry about it," said Bond. "Okay, the place is clear. Talk to me."

"Okay first of all," said Leiter, "this Wayne guy is a billionaire playboy. Gets all the women. You'd like him. He keeps himself in trim by the look of him. Doesn't have much to do with the business side, as far as we can see. His parents were killed at an early age. In front of him. That kind of thing has to warp a kid."

"What's this criminal group then? How did they get hold of a nuke?"

"We don't know their origins but we do know they have a nuclear missile. The warhead at any rate. A submarine from Tajikistan sank in the Caspian sea some three weeks ago. When the Russian authorities recovered it they noticed someone had cut into the sub and removed a warhead. They are hopping mad over this. They are wanting to bring Tajikistan back into the fold to get some control over it. The whole region is in turmoil. If we don't return it, preferably intact there could be some serious repercussions. We think Russia might want to bring them back into the fold. To do that they would need to invade Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan just to reach Tajikistan. The whole area would be de-stabilised. We need to put a lid on it fast. The Russian's are understandably furious that this Wayne guy has been interfering. They want their warhead returned and Wayne out of the picture. We want this warhead found and returned. Our government doesn't want to be seen to be dancing to the Russian tune which is why you're here."

"Why do you think Wayne has this?"

"One of the divers who cut into the sub died. His body was caught in one of the pressure doors as they removed the warhead. He was wearing the latest Wayne Tech equipment."

"He might have bought it from somewhere?"

"And he was on the Wayne Tech payrole. I think that warhead is in Gotham, Jim. I don't trust Wayne. He's hiding something, I think he's dirty. I think Wayne Tech is the front for this group."

"If I might interject," said Bennett. "I have known Bruce for some years. The death of his parents at such a young age hit him hard. He always has a barely hidden anger and resentment hidden beneath the surface. I think he has finally gone," Bennett licked his lips nervously, "mad. To coin a phrase. My company does auditing for a lot of companies including his. We noticed some serious high tech gadgets going missing over the years including enough hardware to build a tank, or at the very least an armoured car. We had to do some serious 'cooking' of the books to get it past the taxman. Now this bomb has gone missing. A lot of the Wayne Tech equipment has yet to turn up. It has to be him."

"How do I get to him?"

"There's a big society function tomorrow night. A charity affair. Save the rainforests or something. I want you to go there. Lean on Wayne, find out where that warhead is and kill him if you have to."

"You can get me a ticket?"

Leiter got a ticket out of his pocket and showed it to Bond. "Bennett can be your date. He can show you around."

"Okay. I might pay a visit on Wayne Tech first though…"

* * *

Batman kicked the door down and immediately ducked as a bullet whistled past him. He dived into the room, a bullet knocking a huge splinter out of the doorframe behind him. In front of him was Tony Abretti pointing a huge beretta at the doorway. He fired again twice but Batman twisted away from the bullets and threw a drugged tipped dart at Abretti's neck knocking him out.

He opened the window of the third floor apartment, picked up Tony Abretti with one arm and leapt out of the window. Only a grappling hook released at the last possible second prevented him crashing to his doom.

In the street below were Gordon and a catch wagon. He handed over Abretti to Gordon.

"Thanks," said Gordon. "We've had a busy night here."

"What else has been going on?" growled Batman.

"You're boy Robin caught a gang breaking into a Wayne Tech warehouse and he saved a thug who tried to kill this other guy as well. Well we think he did. We are still trying to track down the guy he tried to kill. Anyway…" He carried on talking and looked around. Batman had gone.

* * *

The next day Bruce Wayne was in a meeting with Lucius Fox, the Managing Director of Wayne Corp.

"I hate to bother you over small matters Bruce…"

"Go ahead," said Bruce whilst studying some of the latest accountancy projections for the next quarter.

"As you know we have been steadily losing equipment from our Wayne Tech arm for some years. We haven't investigated the losses because of your say so."

Bruce looked up at this and stared at Lucius. "Sit down Lucius. I'll get us some coffee in." He pressed a button on the desk intercom. "Miranda, two coffees please. White with one sugar? That right?"

"No sugar. My wife is on at me to lose weight. Anyway Bruce, these losses have been building up steadily. Bennett Accountancy Systems has brought it up time and time again. We cannot keep hiding it. Look at what has been going missing recently." He handed over a piece of paper to Bruce.

Bruce quickly scanned the paper. Teflon. Body armour. Sheets of titanium steel. Jet engines. All what every good vigilante needs. He tensed as he carried on looking. Three man submersibles. Underwater cutting equipment. Explosives. Missile technology for launching weather satellites.

"We would have told you sooner but you always have some excuse for them…"

Bruce tried to relax. "I don't think it is anything to worry about."

"That's just it, sir. Robin captured a group of men stealing from the warehouse last night. The police have them now. We might be able to find out who is responsible…" He trailed off.

"What is it Lucius?"

"I have spoken to Gordon. He is the Commissioner of …"

"I know who Gordon is."

"Of course you do. Of course you do. Anyway he says the men have not told him anything."

"They might not tell him anything," said Bruce and allowed the sentence to trail off. "Thanks for bringing this to my attention, Lucius," he said and stood up. Miranda, a rather plump brown haired woman, came bustling in with two steaming cups of coffee and a selection of short bread biscuits. "Thanks Miranda. I've got to go out. I've got my hair cut scheduled shortly."

She looked at him strangely. "You had a hair cut yesterday, Mr Wayne."

He gave her a touch of the Bat glare and she giggled. It just didn't work without the mask and especially not with Miranda. She tended to treat him like a small boy who needed looking after. When she wasn't telling him to eat his greens she was telling him he should find a nice girl to settle down with. "Just cancel my meetings this afternoon and hold my calls."

"What should I tell anyone who calls you?"

Bruce picked up his jacket from the back of his chair. "Make it up."

"Errm you are visiting the zoo with your mistress and your three illegitimate children?"

"That'll do. I'll see you tomorrow."


	4. Bats and bullets

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Four **

At the fire exit of a Wayne Tech research building a man was just picking the lock. In seconds he was in. The small gadget he had used to break in had also fused the alarm system.

Quietly Bond walked down the corridor. He heard voices up ahead and he walked into the first room. It was just a cleaning room. He waited for the voices to disappear and he carried on up the corridor. He was not too sure what he was looking for but he had to find it and quickly. A door opened and a security guard looked at him and gasped. Before he had a chance to shout, Bond jabbed him in the adams apple, making him choke and punched him viciously in the solar plexus. He went down with a thump. Bond dragged him into a cleaning room. He put on his jacket and pass and tied him up quickly and efficiently.

Bond, in his new guise, walked the corridors of Wayne Tech.

* * *

Batman crawled over the roof of the Gotham Police Headquarters. He knew where the prisoners were kept but he didn't particularly want Gordon looking in at him while he interrogated them. This he wanted to do himself. He quietly opened up a ventilation shaft and crawled into the ventilation system. As he passed he fused the lights in the cellblock. 

He put his star light lenses in place and lowered himself silently into the cells where the prisoners were held. He recognised the men Robin had caught from his description. There was a gasp sound from the prisoners as they recognised the sinister shape of the bat.

He glided up to the cell where Addison and his cronies were. Addison was crouched at the back of the cell trying to hide.

"Addison…" Hissed Batman.

"Hey man, who are you? Where are you? What do you want?"

"I want to know who you work for?"

"I work for no-one. I'm self employed." He started to get his courage back as he realised Batman couldn'tget tohim at the back of the cell. "You can't touch me, Batman."

A line wrapped around Addison's waist and dragged him to the bars. Batman put a hand around his throat. "Tell me."

"Eeeurrggh!"

"You'll have to speak up."

"Ahieaijife!"

"What was that? Oh I'll release my grip a bit."

"I can't tell you man! He'll kill me!"

"If you don't tell me I'll make your life a living hell."

"You don't know what he's like. Well possibly you do. It's the Joker, man. He's got most of the Wayne Tech guards in his pocket. He's gone mad man."

"What do you mean gone?"

"Well maybe he has always been a bit fruity. He found out, don't ask me how, about a nuclear bomb? He's got a multiple warhead."

Batman paled and dropped Addison. "He's got the weather satellite launch rockets as well. He could launch a strike anywhere he wants to. What does he want to stop this?"

"Who says he wants anything? This is the Joker. He probably wants the moon wrapped in a purple bow or something."

"Where is he?" Batman's voice was like broken glass as he lifted Addison up one-handed three feet off the floor.

"I don't know man, I swear. I only ever talk to him on the phone!"

He dropped Addison to the floor and he crumpled up gasping and coughing.

Batman stalked out of the cellblock. Seconds later the power came back onto the building and several police officers burst into the cellblock. All they could see was Addison crouched on the floor of his cell quivering. Despite his shaking he was smiling …

* * *

Bond walked confidently through a door into an office. He nodded affably to two people working there and carried on walking through. His target was the main office at the end of the corridor. His security card was letting him through all the doors. The supervisor's office was at the end of the corridor. He walked into the office and sat down. 

"Good morning," said Bond and pointed a gun at the man.

"What the hell do you want, I have no money?" Said the supervisor shaking so much he knocked his mug of coffee off the desk and it fell on the floor staining the white carpet.

"Information," said Bond. "I want all your stock records for the past two years on here, particularly any losses. I also want full employment details." With a flourish Bond produced a USB pen drive. In the past he considered he would have stolen and photographed files or even hacked on himself. Nowadays with technology and firewalls being what they were the best way to get information was the direct approach.

The supervisor, still shaking took the pen drive and plugged it into his computer. "W-w-what do you want?"

"I am interested more in your diving equipment and submersibles. Hurry up my gun is likely to go off if I get nervous." Unlike the supervisor Bond was cold, calm and collected.

In a couple of minutes the supervisor downloaded the files Bond was interested in. He walked up to the still quivering supervisor and knocked him out with the butt of his gun. Suddenly a klaxon alarm rang out. They must have found the first guards body.

Bond ran to the doorway and opened it. A fusillade of shots pierced and shattered the door. Bond felt his pulse increase. God but there was joy in this. He stuck a hand round the doorframe and loosed off two shots. Not in the hope of hitting anyone but more to keep their heads down. He ran past the door way, picked up a chair and threw it through the window.

There was a smashing and splintering sound and the window shattered. Bond leapt out and grabbed onto the fire escape with one hand. A guard appeared at the window for a fraction of a second and Bond loosed a shot earning the guard a permanent desk job. He tucked the gun one handed into his holster and pulled himself up onto the fire escape.

A spark erupted on the step below him as a bullet bounced off. It flew off into the distance with a strange whining sound. He looked down and could see several armed guards running up the fire escape towards him. That only left one direction and that was up.

Did any other work bring this much excitement, he thought. Sometimes he wondered what direction his life might have taken if he hadn't been approached my Military Intelligence when he was in the Navy. Would he have a house in Surbiton, a wife and two children in a mock tudor house, a mistress in a flat in London? Not a chance, the only place he would settle down would be his coffin. He ran up the stairs three at a time.

Two guards opened the door in front of him as he ran up the stairs towards them. Just before they pointed their guns at him Bond struck. Bond was on the first man before he had a chance to draw breath. He didn't even bother shooting him; he kneed him in the crotch, elbowed the other one in the face and then kicked the first one down the stairs.

He had barely slowed his run up the stairs. He was already half way up the next flight of stairs before the first guard had stopped rolling down the steps. He reached the roof of the warehouse and ran along the central walkway. Either side of him he could see the skylights. One wrong step and he would fall the fifty feet to the bottom of the warehouse and the only thing to look forward to would be an obituary in the "The Times".

A bullet whistled overhead. Bond stopped, crouched down and with one swift fluid movement drew his gun and sent two bullets towards the guards. He wasn't shooting to kill. He had a loathing of cold murder and these guards were no threat to him. His well-aimed bullets took one man in the foot and the other in the hand. It wouldn't kill them but it would slow them down.

A bullet sliced through his sleeve on his Saville Row suit making him revise both his aim and his opinion as to their threat. His next bullet took a guard through the forehead. If his life was threatened he was allowed to kill. Bond felt the fluttering of another bullet as it passed his ear. These guards were getting too good. More and more of them were starting to crowd the end of the walkway. These ones had machine guns.

Bond sent another bullet into a guard's head and threw himself to his left as he crashed through the glass of the warehouse. There was nothing below him but concrete floor. He could just make out the workers below him looking up at him in shock.

He reached for his belt and pressed the buckle. A line shot out and attached the walkway above him. One of the Quartermasters gadgets. He swung through the warehouse and let go at the bottom of the descent and rolled on the concrete floor before getting to his feet and running towards the exit door. A forklift truck was just going through the entranceway. Bond raced past the surprised looking workers towards the chain link fence. He jumped up the gate, wrapping a hand around one of the bars and leapt over the top to land with the agility of a cat the other side.

In the distance he could hear sirens approaching. He ran into an alleyway and looked over his head. The Wayne Tech building was crawling with people now. No-body seemed to be following him which was good. There was a faint rustling sound in front of him. When he looked in front of him there was a man dressed in black with white ghostly eyes and devil like black horns.


	5. Fire Trucks and Business suits

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With grateful thanks to cmar for beta reading this for me. Thanks to all the reviews so far! I do genuinely appreciate them. All reviews welcome! 

**Golden Bat – Chapter Five**

Bond looked at the man in front of him and immediately turned around and started walking in the other direction.

There was a swishing sound and Batman appeared in front of him. "You wait there a moment."

Bond raised an eyebrow. "You're in my way."

"You've stolen and killed in that Wayne Tech warehouse."

"In self defence," said Bond. "Watch I don't do the same to you. Now move."

"Are you working for the Joker?"

"I don't know what you are talking about. Get out of my way."

Bond took a step forward. Batman stayed where he was. A fist swished out from under Batman's cloak and nearly took Bond unawares. Nearly. He dodged it, he didn't know how, and aimed a kick at Batman, which Batman somehow evaded.

He pulled out a gun and aimed it at Batman when a Batarang knocked the gun out of his hand. He winced and backed away down the alleyway.

Another batarang whistled through the air aimed at Bond's head. Bond moved his head slightly but just enough so it passed him but parted his hair. He turned and ran towards the end of the alleyway. There was another swishing sound and Batman appeared in front of him. This time Bond was ready for him and he picked up a dustbin lid in passing and threw it at Batman. It spun through the air and caught the dark knight off guard, catching him in the chest and throwing him to the ground.

Bond ran back and picked up his gun in passing and ran into the street in front of a cab. The taxi screeched to a halt centimetres from him. Bond ran to the side of the cab and dragged the driver out and got in the car. He ignored the Italian swearing from the cabby and pressed his foot down. He was reassured by the throaty growl of the car engine.

Thump! His windscreen was suddenly covered in a black material. Batman had landed on the hood of his car. He was tempted to shoot him off the hood but Batman had not threatened his life. At least not yet. He saw a fire truck passing in the opposite direction and he did a handbrake turn that nearly, but not quite, threw Batman from the car. He raced up to the side of the truck and opened the door and grabbed the side of the fire truck.

Bond leapt out of the speeding car leaving the taxicab without a driver and with a bat clinging to the front. He clambered up the cold steel of the fire ladder towards the cab at the front and looked behind him. Batman had climbed into the taxicab and bought it to a safe halt.

The British agent climbed along the side of the fire truck and reached the drivers door. One handed he pulled out his pistol and tapped it on the window.

"If you could stop a moment please?"

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Stop the truck and get out, now."

"No."

"Do you recognise this?"

"It's a gun."

"It's a gun and I'm the one with it telling you to stop."

The truck screeched to a halt in a cloud of dust. Bond jumped down and clambered into the front seat. Several rather annoyed looking firemen, whom nevertheless had some interesting comments to make on Bond's parentage, left the truck and Bond got in the seat.

In the distance he could start to hear sirens. Police cars and approaching fast. He felt his pulse rise and the old excitement enter his soul. Today looked like being interesting.

He pressed the accelerator down and the fire truck started down the road. He had to get out of here, and quickly. He looked about the huge truck. Possibly not the most incognito way to get about town but at least there were few things that could stop it.

He could taste iron and blood in his mouth and his vision was suddenly full of stars. God, he didn't even see him this time. This man was some kind of ghost and he had a punch like Jaws. He looked to his left and another punch hissed towards him. This time he dodged it and he grabbed Batman's hand and dragged the dark knight into the cab with him. The fire truck started weaving in the road, sending cars spinning in all directions.

Bond elbowed Batman in the neck but his Kevlar gorget stopped most of the force. This was getting to be a bad habit. Punching Batman was like punching rock, as nothing seemed to shake him.

Batman sent a blow to Bond's right arm and his arm was suddenly useless. He felt pins and needles in it. He had hit a nerve centre Bond guessed. Still he could shoot just as well with his left hand.

This fire truck was an unhealthy place to stay in. He kicked viciously at Batman sending him spinning out of the fire truck. The Bat was holding on one handed onto the door his feet sending sparks flying on the tarmac road below. Bond kicked the door again but Batman somehow stayed clinging on.

His arm was beginning to get some life back into it. He looked in front of him. Roadworks and he was going too fast to dodge them. He looked at the door and saw that Batman was no longer holding onto it. He looked through the windscreen and his heart nearly skipped a beat as he saw Batman glaring through it.

Only one thing to do. He would have to rely on Batman's hero mentality. He pointed the truck towards a group of workmen and leapt out of the door and rolled in the road to slow his speed down. He scraped his knee and scuffed his hand but otherwise he was pretty much unhurt. He winced a bit as he stood up.

He looked over at the truck and could see Batman clamber into the fire truck to try and get some control back. Inches short of the workmen Batman halted the fire truck.

Bond just as quickly pulled over another cab and was heading quickly away in the other direction, just one anonymous cab among the hundreds on the streets. He looked nervously over his shoulder for a few minutes but he seemed to have lost him.

Now the adrenaline had run off he started to consider his injuries. His arm was pretty much back to normal now. What had Batman done to it? He must have hit a nerve cluster or something. He had several bruises and his jaw would ache for a while but otherwise he had gotten off lightly. He got out the pen drive and looked at it. This information had better be worth all the trouble he had taken…

* * *

An hour later Bruce Wayne was standing outside Wayne Corp headquarters. He ducked down a side alley and got out a small mobile phone that operated on a coded frequency that only a few phones could intercept. He pressed a button and got a ringing tone. 

"R, this is B," he said.

"This is R."

"I want you to run some research on the man I caught breaking into Wayne Tech today. I'm downloading his picture now." He pressed a button on the phone. "Run it past the Oracle as well. I want his name and who he is yesterday."

"Sure thing B. Catch you later."

He clicked the phone shut and walked into Wayne Corp Headquarters.

As he got in the lift he thought about what had happened so far and by the time he arrived at his office he was nearly shaking with rage because his company suddenly seemed to be not his anymore.

"Good afternoon, Mr Wayne," Miranda said, smiling at him. "Can I get you a coffee?"

"Get two in. I want to see the Head of Wayne Tech in my office now, Damian Alvey."

"He might be busy, I don't have his schedule here," said Miranda looking at the Outlook calendar.

"I don't care. Get him. Get him now."

"This is unlike you, Mr Wayne, all businesslike. Have I shown you my latest pictures of my nephew? He looks adorable in his little superman suit."

Bruce shuddered. "Miranda, just for once…"

Miranda stared up at him her bottom lip just starting to flutter.

"Okay! Okay! Just don't look at me like that, but get Alvey here now!"

He slammed the door to his office and sat down still quivering with a barely suppressed rage. Something was going badly wrong with Wayne Tech, that was for sure. He didn't know who that man was he tangled with outside his factory but something was seriously wrong. He made it a matter of policy that Wayne Corp guards were not armed. He made it a matter of policy that Wayne Corp guards were not thugs. And he made it matter of policy that Wayne Corp guards did not shoot to kill. Something was going badly wrong in the Wayne Tech side of his business and he wanted to find out what it was. Before more people died…

There was a hesitant knocking on his door and Miranda peered in.

"Mr Alvey to see you Mr Wayne," she said. "I've got your coffees here, do you want any biscuits with that? I've got cookies I baked at home for you?"

Bruce forced himself to smile. "Thank you, Miranda, that would be lovely. I'm sorry if I shouted at you before."

She visibly relaxed. "That's okay, Mr Wayne. We all have a bad day sometimes. You know I forgot to water my plants the other day and…"

"Thank you. Thank you!" said Bruce. "Close the door on your way out."

Damian Alvey walked up to Bruce. He was a tall good-looking man with light brown hair. He was a keen yachtsman and he always had a suntanned weather beaten face.

"Hey Bruce," said Damian, putting out his hand to shake Bruce's, "what's up? This important? I've got a meeting with our German suppliers in twenty minutes."

Bruce didn't take his hand and he didn't smile. "Why are there armed guards at my Wayne Tech warehouses?"

"Hey, and I thought you were challenging me to another game of golf," said Damian, smiling easily. "Has your handicap improved since our last game?"

"Just answer the question."

"We've got some serious technology on site now. We need the guards."

Bruce raised one hand and breathed deeply. "My policy has never been to employ guards with guns."

"Chill out Bruce, the company's running at a profit isn't it? Anyway they are justified. We had a break in just recently. The guards chased him off."

"Two guards dead and three hospitalised?"

Damian shrugged. "Shows how much we need them."

Bruce turned back to his computer and brought up some files. "Their CV's show they are all ex-cons."

"I thought you were an equal opportunity employer?"

"Robbery with violence, murder, multiple homicide," said Bruce, reading down the list. "Two have known associations with both the Joker and Two-face. They read like the sort of gang Batman would take down."

"They are guards, not angels."

"I want them off my site and I want an explanation for all the items that have been disappearing from Wayne Tech in the past two months, namely the submersible and the rockets."

For the first time Damian stopped smiling. "That really does not concern you, Bruce."

"I am not happy with the way Wayne Tech is being run."

"With respect; you are not a businessman, you are the owner. Go back to your parties and fine wines and leave this side of the business to me."

Bruce shot to his feet and pointed at Damian. "Don't you ever talk to me like that again or you'll find yourself out of a job and I'll make sure you never work in this state again!"

Miranda was just bustling in with some more cookies and coffee. "I'll come back."

Damian put out his hands. "Chill! Chill! I'll get a report to you in the morning with a full breakdown of what we do."

"I don't want a report, I want to visit the site now."

"That's not really a good …"

"Now."

"Okay, okay, you win." He looked at his watch and sighed with disappointment. "It'll have to be tomorrow morning anyway; it's 5 o'clock now, we shut up shop at 5. You've got your charity function in two hours. Sponsored by my section. Wayne Tech. You'd better get your tux on."

Bruce Wayne was furious at being outmanoeuvred. "Okay, okay. Tomorrow morning then. If I find one thing out of place you are out of job."

Damian didn't smile. "Tomorrow morning you'll find out what Wayne Tech really does, sir."


	6. Casino's and Cat's

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With grateful thanks to cmar for beta reading this for me. Thanks to all the reviews so far! I do genuinely appreciate them. All reviews welcome! 

**Golden Bat – Chapter Six**

James Bond was studying his laptop with an intensity he usually reserved for women. This data was not only interesting, it was damning. He took a sip of his drink he had next to him. Two single bourbons with some ice that wasn't being given a chance to melt. He gulped it down and went back to looking at the data. Without breaking his gaze at the laptop he added some more bourbon into his glass.

They were hiding something in the Wayne Tech factory he had broken into, that was for sure, and it looked like they might be hiding a nuclear bomb - but what did they want it for? There was a Wayne Tech Satellite launching pad just outside of Gotham. With those facilities and a multiple nuclear warhead at his disposal, Bruce Wayne was a nuclear power all by himself.

The guards he employed were all ex-cons as well and some of them had links to some of the more famous local gangsters. To be honest, this Damian Alvey character tended to deal with all the business for Wayne Tech. He looked at the Wayne website. Wayne Tech was just one arm of a multi-billion dollar industry. What was concerning him was that Bruce Wayne had still not issued any demands. Normally it was along the lines of "Pay me $100 billion dollars or I start wiping out your cities. I'll start with London." That would have his employers jumping up and down. But still, Bruce Wayne was already a billionaire. Why would he want more money? What could be his motivation? Then again it could be more money he wanted. For some people it was like a drug. They could never have too much.

He skimmed through Bruce Wayne's biography again. He lost his parents at a young age. When he was eighteen he spent a few years travelling the globe. That part of his life was pretty much undocumented. Who had he met in his travels? Had his views on the world changed then? The past few years he had been living the life of a wealthy playboy. The society pages often ran articles on the latest women in his life. Those missing few years concerned Bond. He had met several "sleeper" agents in his life. Agents of the communists who spent many years in England settling in with a wife, family and a job but all the while their loyalties lay with Mother Russia. When the signal went out they carried out whatever they had been tasked to do.

Was Wayne like that? The Russians were apparently itching to reclaim their lost territory, and Wayne was giving it to them on a plate by stealing warheads and showing the area was unsafe and ungovernable. Something the Russians, not surprisingly, wanted to put right.

It was obvious that he had two priorities. Find and remove the nuclear warhead to safety and secondly eliminate Bruce Wayne. Without their leader most gangs tended to head back under whatever rock they crawled from. He got out his gun from its shoulder holster and checked and cleaned it methodically.

He looked at his watch. He had better get ready; the charity function was soon. The perfect opportunity to eliminate Bruce Wayne.

* * *

Two hours later, Wayne had calmed down a bit. He did not trust Damian Alvey now at all. It was his fault, he supposed; he had been so busy being Batman and Bruce Wayne he had left the business side on one side. As long as the money kept coming in he pretty much ignored all the reports that landed on his desk.

Alfred was fussing about him as usual as he put on his tuxedo. He looked in the mirror. He was still glaring. He relaxed a bit and the normal Bruce Wayne smile broke out of the steel.

Alfred drove him down to the event. His hands were drumming against the seat with impatience.

"Are you not well, sir?"

"I'm fine, Alfred, but I might be poor company for a while. How long does this function go on for, I've got some serious investigations to do?"

"Till they run out of champagne I think, Master Bruce. You know, apparently Miss Selina Kyle will be there as well…"

"Right, right."

"I think you two would make a lovely couple."

"Alfred, please. I get enough of those comments from my PA, Miss Lee." He looked at Alfred suspiciously. "Are you two trying to get me settled down?"

"I wouldn't know Miranda at all, sir."

"Ah ha! Miranda! I thought so, you two are on first name terms now then? Well, in future could you two keep your comments strictly to do with work?"

"We do only talk about work, sir. You are our work."

Bruce shook his head. "Okay Alfred, we're here." They were outside Gotham at the revolving restaurant. It was set on the edge of a lake and view rotated round showing the lake, forest and mountains on one side and the Gotham skyline on the other..

Alfred got out of the car and opened the door for Bruce. "Have a good evening, sir. I'll park in the underground car park. Give me a call when you've finished."

"You needn't bother with that, I'll get a taxi home."

"I insist, sir. I'll be in the area," he said mysteriously.

"Who are you meeting?"

"Just a friend, sir."

"Not Miranda?"

"It might be sir, it might be!"

Bruce was shocked to see a twinkle in the old man's eye and a spring in his step as he sat back in his car. He shook his head and smiled as he saw Alfred drive off. With those two plotting against him, he was in serious trouble!

There were several dozen journalists photographing people as they walked in. He gave them his best Bruce Wayne smile and strolled up to the building. He took a deep breath and turned around to go into the restaurant.

This was a charity evening. They had cleared the tables away and set up the place like a casino. The place smelt of smoke and sweat as people lost and won fortunes. The idea was that people would gamble money so they would have a good time and give to charity. It seemed a strange idea to Bruce. He did not like gambling. He gave himself a wry smile as he thought, or not gambling with money anyway.

The place was full of rich young Gotham socialites all in their expensive tuxedoes and dresses. The women were all wearing the very latest in tight fitting clothes, or at least the ones who had the figures to flaunt it were, and there were a lot of them out tonight.

In one corner of the room he could see Damian Alvey, the director of Wayne Tech, talking to Nicholas Bennett, head of the financial auditing company Wayne used. He didn't know they knew each other. There were several other men about he didn't know as well. They were in tuxedoes but judging by the size of them they would be happier in the gym. Damian raised a hand when he saw Bruce and gave him a friendly smile. Strange, considering the chewing out he gave him earlier.

One of the men standing next to Damian was well over seven foot tall. He was hiding in the shadows and trying to stay out of sight but it was difficult for a man of his size. He could swear he saw his teeth glint like metal in the half-light of the casino.

He would talk to Damian later; his mobile phone was ringing. He looked at the screen. It was Robin. He strolled into a corner and answered the phone.

"Hey B, it's R."

"Have you got the information?"

"You don't make life easy do you? Oracle and I have been working on this the past three hours. We hacked into the CIA system first; they have a total of 35 firewalls! We only got past them by…."

"Sorry R, I haven't time for this, who is he?"

"His name is James Bond. British Secret Service. One of their top agents apparently. He's an assassin but very highly thought of by the CIA as well. We only found him because the CIA mentioned him dozens of times. That led us to the MI6, British intelligence services. Don't know what case he is working on now but he has stopped several global threats, numerous wars and has personally removed at least three despotic regimes. He is one of the good guys, although his methods are a touch lethal compared with yours."

"Thanks R, I'll be back in touch shortly." He slid the phone shut and put it back in his pocket. He looked about the room.

He could see Selina Kyle, looking as elegant and treacherous as ever, talking animatedly to a man over on the edge of one of the tables. A man he recognised.

He strolled over to her. "Selina, good to see you again. Who's your friend?"

The man turned around. He was a tall good-looking dark haired man but he had a dangerous air about him. He was also the man Batman had caught breaking out of Wayne Tech. A very dangerous man indeed.

He put out his hand. "The name's Bond, James Bond."

Bruce Wayne shook his hand cautiously. "Wayne, Bruce Wayne."

"He's British, Bruce," said Selina while poking him playfully in the arm with one finger. "He says he works for…"

"International Exports," said Bond, not smiling. "I'm here on business. Do I take it you are our host for this evening?"

"Yes. Well it was arranged by Wayne Tech, a branch of the company I own. Damian Alvey is the real host."

Selina ran a hand down Bond's chest. "James was going to show me how to play poker."

"If you play with me you might lose your shirt."

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a fact."

Bruce cut in. "Selina, I was going to show you the…" He thought quickly. "Art work they have here. Quite extraordinary brush strokes from a new artist in town."

Selina looked over at Bond. "Apparently James is a bit of an artist with strokes."

"Really. Really. Can I have a word with Mr Bond a moment, please?" He glanced at Selina then added a bit of the Batman steel to his words. "Mr Bond and I have some important information to talk about."

"It would be a pleasure, Mr Wayne." He put an arm out. "After you."

"No, after you."

"I insist."

"You two are so cute. Like the three stooges," said Selina. "You know I don't know which one is better looking?" She looked from Bruce to James and back again. She took an olive on a cocktail stick from a nearby tray and started nibbling it while looking at the two men. "It's a tough question alright, I might have to think about it long and hard."

Bruce pushed Bond away. "We need to talk. Good night, Selina."

"Good night Selina, don't wait up."

Bruce Wayne pushed Bond towards one of the private function rooms to the side of the restaurant. He nodded to Damian Alvey as he passed him and pushed Bond into the room. He slammed the door shut and then stopped.

Bond had backed away a few paces and was pointing a pistol at him. "I didn't think you would make it this easy for me."


	7. Flames and Jaw's

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With grateful thanks to cmar for beta reading this for me. Thanks to all the reviews so far! I do genuinely appreciate them. All reviews welcome!

**Golden Bat – Chapter Seven**

The door opened and Selina Kyle came purring in.

"Why boys, I can smell the testosterone from a mile away." She glanced seductively around at Bond and Wayne. "This fight isn't about little old me is it?"

"This does not concern you, Selina," said Bruce. He still had not taken his eyes off James Bond. Bond was standing about three meters away. He would be gunned down before he could reach the gun. Certainly against a man of Bond's undoubted skill.

"Do you mind if I stick my paws in, boys?" said Selina and walked over to Bond.

"Get out of here," said Bond roughly, whilst trying to stop Selina getting in his line of shot.

With a speed that astonished Bond, she grabbed his gun hand, pointed it safely at the ceiling and disarmed him.

Selina backed away, still with the gun. "Now can you two talk like men or squabble like little boys?"

"One of yours, is she?" said Bond, rubbing his hand.

"I'm one of mine," said Selina. "Now what started this little tete a tete?" She pointed the gun at Bond. "Now, please tell me. This gun is so technical and me being a girl and all it might just go off in my hand and that would be messy."

"I know who you are," said Bruce. "British Secret Service. What are you doing coming after me?"

"I think you probably know," said Bond, not taking his eyes off Selina.

"Are you investigating me or my company? As there are things going on in my company that I don't know about."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

At this comment Selina erupted into peels of laughter. "James! James! Don't you know who Brucey is?"

"Selina doesn't know what she is talking about!"

"Dear Brucey here is boringly honest. The last time he was bad was when he got a 50 cent fine for not returning his library book on time."

"That's as may be, but someone in your company is hiding a multi-warhead nuclear missile."

"You're joking!"

"Unfortunately not. I've got your name on a licence to kill. Tell me who I should replace it with?"

"Woah! You are not killing anyone in my city!"

"Either help me find out who is responsible, or get out of my way." Selina was mesmerised by the conversation and Bond used the lull to grab his gun from Selina's hands.

"Do that again, honey, and I'll scratch your eyes out," said Selina, rubbing her wrist and staring at Bond with loathing.

Bruce tried to get close enough to Bond to use one of his kicks but Bond was circling around and keeping his distance.

"Back off," said Bond.

"Why, when you'll shoot me anyway?" Said Bruce.

"If I thought you were guilty I would have killed you already."

"Put the gun away and we'll talk."

"Okay, but try anything and I'll shoot you where you stand." He checked the gun was loaded and put it back into his hidden shoulder holster.

There was a clicking sound from the door. Bruce walked over to it and tried it. "It's locked." He looked down and a piece of paper was pushed under the door. He picked it up and read it. "This is tomorrow's W-Tech News. 'Bruce Wayne and a British Foreign Office worker were unfortunately killed in a fire at a charity function in the famous Gotham landmark the Revolving Restaurant. The building was totally burnt to the ground'."

An alarm bell started ringing out, and from behind the door he could hear the sounds of screams and running feet.

At the base of the door smoke started seeping in.

Bruce Wayne kicked the door by the hinges. A pain lanced up his leg as it hit an immovable object. "The door is reinforced."

"Step back," said Bond drawing his gun. Bruce and Selina took a couple of steps back. Bond loosed a volley of three shots at the door lock then tried the lock. Still locked. The bullets had barely pecked on the surface.

Bruce touched the door and winced. "It's getting hot. The fire is on the other side of this door. We've got to find another way out of here." He started coughing as smoke started to pour into the room. The door started to glow red, betraying its steel reinforced centre. The fire alarm sound died outside as the fire ate through the cables. The lights in the room flickered and died and at the same time the steady hum of the air conditioning unit stopped. There was an ominous silence broken only by a slow steady flickering and roaring sound as the fire caught hold outside.

"Let's try the windows." Bond looked at the windows. They were barred and bolted. "These are reinforced as well. This isn't a room, it's a cell."

"Some of the local gangsters like a bit of security when they hold their meetings here," said Selina. "They don't want the big bad bat dropping in unannounced."

Selina took a look at the window. "Titanium frame, steel surround. Triple glazing." She tapped the window with a long manicured fingernail and there was a ting sound. "Bullet proof. We'd need a bulldozer to get out of this room."

Bruce and Bond started to crouch as the ceiling rapidly filled with cloying black smoke filled with glowing sparks that gave the smoke a glowing hellish air.

"You're an expert thief, how would you get out of here?" asked Bruce.

"Darling, I break into places, not out of them."

"Have you any of your equipment with you?"

Selina cast her hands over her slim feline body and raised her eyebrows at Bruce. "Where would I hide it? No, don't answer that. What's he doing?" She pointed at Bond who was crouched next to the window. He had adjusted his watch and a thin beam of red light was rapidly crawling up the glass leaving a line of melted glass behind.

A blue flashing light could be seen below as the fire services arrived. Unless they got out of here soon the only thing the fire service would find would be their bodies.

The fire crept under the door and the carpet started smouldering adding more toxic fumes to the already foul air. Selina started coughing.

Bruce crawled over to Bond to look at his handiwork. He was about halfway through cutting a circle. Bruce gave the window one of his best akido kicks and the glass snapped, leaving a gaping hole in the window. Bond gave him a curious look at this unexpected skill. Smoke started pouring out of the room giving them air to breathe but the rush of air encouraged the fire. Flames erupted around the door and started to surround them.

The flames were hungry for air and were licking towards the open window. The heat was incredible. Bruce could see the candles on the table melting in front of him. The restaurant was still revolving around and the part they were on was over the lake so they all three dove into the lake. Behind them the room they were in belched smoke and flame into the air. The restaurant was now an inferno.

They landed with a huge splash in the cold lake. The temperature change was incredible and made them all gasp with shock. The shore was not that far away and they started swimming strongly towards it. Behind them the restaurant was still belching smoke and flames. It was too far gone to rescue and the fire crews were concentrating on rescuing the stragglers from the restaurant.

They all three swam strongly towards the shore where some of the guests were gathered. Bruce climbed out of the lake and was met by Damian Alvey.

"Thank God you are safe, sir!" said Damian Alvey. "I feared the worst when the fire caught so quickly."

"What happened?" said Bruce brusquely.

"God alone knows, Bruce. It must have been some sort of electrical fault." He smiled at Bruce. "I don't know what the company would do without you. I hope you will be well enough for our meeting tomorrow?"

"I'll be there. You can count on it."

A fire chief walked up to Bruce. "Thank goodness you are safe, sir. We feared the worst. We've no idea how this building caught fire so quickly but thankfully we got everyone else out okay."

"Let me know your report," said Bruce as he walked past him. Bond and Selina hurried to keep up with him. Bruce got out his mobile phone, thankfully waterproof, and started pressing a button when a coughing sound made him stop.

"I take it the evening's festivities are over, sir?" said Alfred.

"Yes Alfred." He looked behind him at the smoke strewn wreckage that was once a famous Gotham landmark. "You must be psychic." He looked over at Bond and Selina. Their once expensive clothes were battered and bedraggled and wet. "Alfred, prepare two guest rooms when we get back. We are having visitors. I think we should all pay a visit to Wayne Tech tomorrow, don't you?" Bond smiled at this, a decidedly wolfish look for such a darkly handsome man. Selina gave him a long slow appraising look.

They got in the back of the limousine. The car purred away from the scene.

"Tell me who sent you," said Bruce Wayne abrasively. He didn't particularly want to invite the English man back to his manor but he would rather have him where he could keep an eye on him than not.

"I can't talk about that."

"Why are you here?"

Bond gave him a long slow look while he decided how much he should tell him. He shrugged; what harm could it be to tell him, besides he liked to live dangerously. "A nuclear missile has gone missing and it bears all the hallmarks of Wayne Tech. You're in charge of Wayne Tech."

The screen between them and Alfred slid down. "Forgive me for interrupting, sirs, but there have been two cars following us for the past three miles. They've changed cars twice but I know we are being followed. It is the old Ford sedan."

Bond looked out the back window. An old Ford sedan was following them two cars back. "Friends of yours?"

Wayne looked as well. There were several people in the car. The car started accelerating up the flow of traffic towards them.

Bruce looked at the people in the car. "I don't know them."

"I do, unfortunately," said Bond. "The big man's called Jaws. He's a contract killer and an exceptionally good one." He looked over at Wayne. "You must have annoyed the wrong people."

"Lose them!" said Bruce.

Alfred put his foot down and the car lurched away. The Ford roared up to the side of the car and Bruce could see the occupants. One of them was a huge man with steel teeth. Alfred used the sheer weight of the limo to try and push the other car off the road.

Jaws clambered out of the roof of the sedan and grabbed hold of the roof of their car. With a crashing sound he punched his way through the roof of the limo and started to peel off the roof. Bond saw the huge scarred face of Jaws, his metallic teeth gleaming as he grimaced with the effort of tearing their car apart, as he tried to push his way into the limo with them.


	8. Ripping times and midnight walks

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With grateful thanks for Cmar for reviewing this chapter and thanks to all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Golden Bat – Chapter Eight**

Bruce looked up to see the roof was being torn off the car. Alfred looked back, his eyebrows rising at the terrifying scene behind him.

"Excuse me, sir," he said and he wrenched the wheel down hard to his left whilst simultaneously putting on the handbrake. The car, in a cloud of smoke, dust and debris, slammed against a lamppost shattering a window and crumpling the side.

Bruce, Bond and Selina were thrown about in the back in the car. Jaws was hurled off the car and went crashing into a dumpster, leaving a huge dent in the middle of it.

Alfred put his foot down and the limo started to crawl away. He changed down a gear. Not fast enough! Jaws got to his feet, shook his head, roared and grabbed hold of the back of the limo and tried to pull it back. The engine squealed as it continued the unequal struggle.

Alfred gunned the gears up and the revs shot up. The car shot away with Jaws holding the trunk, which was ripped from the car. Jaws threw the trunk away like a Frisbee. Bruce was amazed at his strength. This man could tear apart Bane.

"Step on it, Alfred," said Bruce, still looking back.

"No need to tell me, sir," said Alfred and went up through the gears.

Just before they went round a corner they could see Jaws wrench a passing motorcyclist from the road. With one hand he threw the hapless driver into the dumpster and with the other he held the motorbike up with one hand.

"We won't stop him that easily," said Bond. He got a cigar out of one pocket. It was slightly damp and crumpled but it didn't stop him trying to light it.

"Please don't smoke in my car, sir," said Alfred looking back at him with beady eyes.

"I'll open the window," said Bond, looking up at the sky through the ripped off roof. He lit the cigar one handed and stared at Bruce. "Now tell me why our dentally challenged friend would want to rip your head off?"

There was a huge thump sound from the side and Bruce could see Jaws tearing off the door while he was riding the motorcycle.

"He's got me mistaken for someone else."

"Oh please," said Bond. "Where are my manners?" He got out his cigar packet. "Do either of you two want a cigar?"

Another door was ripped off by Jaws. They were now driving down a darkened road towards the manor with only the occasional car providing light in front of them. In the headlights of a car approaching them Bruce could see Jaws, his teeth glinting and his face straining with the effort of tearing their car to pieces.

"I don't smoke," said Bruce.

Selina was looking at the scene with a wry smile. Alfred tried to swerve the car to stop the demented killer tearing the limo to pieces but it was no good, he could not shake the metal toothed killer.

Bond let out a puff of smoke and sighed contentedly. "The Rocky Patel vintage. I normally prefer a British cigar but it has to be said that Ecuador can certainly make a decent puff. Are you sure I can't tempt you, Selina?"

With a roaring sound Jaws grabbed the seat next to Selina and, while he was still riding his bike, ripped it from its casing and it joined a lot of the rest of the car on the road. Behind them was the detritus of a car ripped to pieces.

"You should smoke, it relaxes you." Jaws grabbed the seat next to Bond in order to rip it from the surround. Bond casually put down his hand with the lighted cigar and stubbed his cigar out on Jaws' hand. Jaws roared in pain and tried to swat at Bond, who flicked the cigar at Jaws face. With breathtaking speed he drew his gun and shot the tyre out of the big man's bike. There was a squeal of breaks and the sound of a crash as Jaws was thrown off a bridge and into a river below. The last they saw of him was the villain being carried away by the current.

"You're probably right, it is a bad habit." He looked around him in mock surprise. "It's certainly getting colder here." He took off his jacket and lent it to Selina.

She handed it back. "I'm not cold."

"Pity, I know several ways to raise the temperature."

She looked at him and raised one eyebrow. "I doubt any man could raise my temperature."

"They just haven't tried hard enough."

This badinage was annoying Bruce and he was surprised to feel a kernel of jealousy grow in his chest. "Alfred, take us home and quick."

Bond looked over at Bruce. "You still haven't explained yourself."

"There is nothing to say, I'm as much in the dark as you are." He gave Bond an appraising look.

"Well, we'll have to lighten up the situation tomorrow won't we?"

Alfred pressed a button on the dashboard of his limo and the Wayne Manor gates purred open. With a reassuringly heavy clunk they slammed shut behind them.

* * *

Despite himself Bond was concerned. He still did not know or trust Bruce Wayne yet and now he was doing something that was suicide for most agents. He was taken away from the city he had studied and knew and taken out of that element. If Bruce Wayne was the mastermind behind all this he was in his lair and in trouble.

He looked up at the house as it loomed up in front of them from the darkness. Still it was a nice place to be. He looked over at Selina and smiled. She caught his eye and looked back. He held her gaze for a full minute before she looked away, a smile just curling her lip. Tonight could be fun anyway. He was feeling tired and exhausted after a long day, but what the hell. He would have plenty of time to sleep in his grave.

He could see Bruce glaring at him. He looked back.

"How do you know that man who was tearing my car apart?"

"In my line of work you come across people like that. I wouldn't expect a millionaire playboy like you to understand."

"You'd be surprised at the people I have to deal with in my line of work," said Bruce.

The car purred up outside the manor. Alfred leapt out to open the door and then realised the car had no doors left. He stood there grasping and ungrasping his hands as he suddenly realised he didn't have anything to do.

"It's okay, Alfred," said Bruce. "We can find our own way out of the car."

Alfred walked up the stairs of the manor ahead of them and opened the door for them.

"If you could adjourn to the drawing room, please. I'll have some coffee for you shortly. There is no smoking in the house," said Alfred looking pointedly at Bond.

"We won't bother with coffee tonight, we can talk in the morning," said Bruce. "If you could prepare the guest rooms for Mr Bond and Miss Kyle. The blue and red suites should suffice."

"But they are right at opposite ends of …" Alfred tailed off. "Certainly sir, the blue and red suites. If you two could follow me please."

"I'll take Selina to the blue suite, you take Bond to the red suite," said Bruce.

Bond saw Selina slink after Bruce and gave himself a wry smile. He followed after Alfred. "Whereabout is the blue suite, Alfred?"

"I'm sure I don't know, sir," said Alfred. "If you could follow me please. We always have a variety of guest rooms made up for unexpected guests."

Bond glanced at the walls as he passed. There were several Rembrandts and what looked like a Renoir as he passed. He couldn't be certain, he would have to study the artwork first, but these paintings were certainly from the same schools.

"Mr Wayne likes his art," said Bond as he passed the paintings. There were also several suits of armour about the house. One of them looked like the Black Prince's battle dress. He looked at Alfred thoughtfully. "That was some driving you pulled today."

"I'm sure I don't know, sir."

"What did you say your full name was?"

"I didn't, sir."

After what seemed like an interminably long and for the most part silent walk they reached another door. "This is your room, sir. Breakfast is at 8 sharp. There are some spare clothes and night attire in the wardrobe. If you leave your clothes outside the door I'll have them washed and darned for you. The house is strictly no smoking, sir."

"Thank you." He opened the door and Bond strolled in. There was a large four-poster bed. One door led to an adjoining en-suite bathroom with a whirlpool bath, and another door led to a balcony looking out on the grounds. Bond opened the doors and looked out. Against the night sky he could see several bats fluttering past. He closed the doors and looked back. Alfred had left.

He opened the wardrobe and found some silk pyjamas. He got out of his dirty and rather battered tuxedo and put on the night attire. Opening the door, he put his clothes and shoes down, minus several gadgets and his gun. He looked down the corridor. He couldn't see anyone. He closed the door. There was a clicking sound from the door. He tried it again and this time it was locked.

He chuckled to himself. No nocturnal rambles for him. So much for a fun night. Still, he needed his sleep. There was a small drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. He smiled when he saw what was in it. He added some vodka to a glass and a dash of dry vermouth. He crushed a bit of ice into the glass and was just starting to shake it to improve the flavour when he heard a seductive female voice coming from the balcony.

"Have you got enough for two?"

* * *

In the Batcave Bruce was just putting on his night attire. He might be visiting Wayne Tech tomorrow as Bruce Wayne but he thought he might visit tonight as Batman, and now that Bond was out of his way he would have a clear chance. Bond seemed to attract trouble and that was something that Bruce Wayne could well do without. Batman on the other hand was a master at finding trouble.

He slid into the Batmobile and pressed the accelerator down. The car purred up the ramp and out of the cave. Wayne Tech was going to get a visitor it hadn't planned on…


	9. Bats and Jaws Cats and Bond

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome. 

**Golden Bat – Chapter Nine**

The guard cupped his hands round the match and lit his cigarette. He dragged the fumes into his lungs and coughed bronchially as he flicked the still burning match onto the roof. It was cold. He was cold. It was the kind of night he should be huddled around a mug of tea, or better yet his girl, instead of which he was patrolling the roof of Wayne Tech at 2 am. The boss had gone mad. Completely mad. They were shifting whatever it was he was worried about out tonight.

Still, he couldn't complain about the overtime. He checked his gun again for the twentieth time tonight. That man who had broken in previously had made all the guards jittery. Normally he would be up here alone, now there were four other guards about. All with itchy trigger fingers. He rubbed his hands to try and get some life into them and peered up the gantry. What was that?

There was a thumping sound up ahead.

"Abbott! Abbott!" he hissed. Another man loped next to him. Abbott was a giant of man, with teeth that told of too many fights and too few dentists.

"Wassup, my man?"

"There's somebody hiding over there. Behind that vent. I heard him, man!"

There was a clicking sound next to him as Abbott took the safety off his gun. "He so dead man! He so dead!" That was a vicious staccato chattering sound as he loosed a full magazine at the vent. The vent was ripped to shreds, and the air was full of the acrid smell of gunpowder smoke.

The silence that followed was broken only by the tinkling sound of cartridges falling on the roof. There was another clinking sound and Abbott put in another magazine.

"You keep me covered, my brother," said Abbott. "I'll check out how many pieces this boy is in."

The guard put the gun sight to his eye and kept it trained on a space in front of Abbott. Abbott suddenly collapsed in front of him and the guard saw a black bat-like shape for just an instant before he collapsed himself, a drugged dart in his neck.

* * *

Selina giggled as Bond poured out another vodka martini for her. He was explaining to her that the shaking was so much better for releasing the taste of the vodka martin than mere stirring.

"Is that how you prefer yours," giggled Selina. "Shaken?"

Bond poured her another drink. "So how long have you known Bruce Wayne for then?"

"Oh, several years." She looked up at him coquettishly. "Let's talk about you."

"Nothing much to say. Lost my parents in a mountaineering accident. I was raised by my uncle. He was in the navy. He taught me most everything I know."

"Is that who I have to blame? Can you take your hand off my leg please?"

"If you take your hand off mine," said Bond. "Thanks. You've got to watch the material."

"So what's a man like you doing in Gotham then?"

"I'm here on business."

"I thought I was your business?"

"I always mix work and pleasure."

There was a knocking sound at the door and a clicking sound and then Alfred came walking in. "Sorry to disturb you, sir, madam." He put a cleaned and pressed suit into the wardrobe. "Miss Kyle. Could I have a word for a moment please?" Alfred beckoned to Selina. "Excuse us a moment, Mr Bond."

Bond shrugged as if it meant nothing to him. Selina walked out, arching her eyebrows at James as she left.

* * *

Batman cursed himself for complacency. That guard firing his gun would soon mean that this roof would be a very unhealthy place. Still, he was here now; he might as well make the best of it. He leapt into a skylight and smashed the glass into a thousand pieces that sparkled like stars as they fell to the ground. Before he hit the ground he fired a grappling hook, which caught on a gantry and sent him swinging through the blackness of the warehouse. It was only his night vision that stopped him hitting the numerous boxes and machines that littered the place.

He landed with animal-like grace in front of two guards equipped with night vision and AK47's. Two seconds later they had earned themselves enough qualifications for a three-day stay in casualty.

Without breaking stride Batman ran towards his target. He had done some checking back in the cave and there was a newly built section of the warehouse. Lead lined, with a titanium surface and an elevator going down two hundred feet into the earth. The plans submitted to Wayne Corp for financial authorisation included the locks, the bathrooms, the canteens; right down to the colour of the walls and the motivational posters that lined the wall.

There was a clicking sound and a gun turret rolled smoothly round as Batman approached the new section. He gasped in shock. The plans had not included five remote gun turrets and, judging by the humming sound, an electrified wall.

With a vicious hammering sound all five-gun turrets fired at Batman.

* * *

"I'm sorry to bother you, madam," said Alfred. "Not that I was expecting to see you in his room but…"

Alfred closed the door behind him and pulled her up the corridor away from Bond's door. "The master wanted you to stay away from Mr Bond." He pointed into the room that Bond was in. "That man works for the British Intelligence services. He is one of their top assassins. He's extremely dangerous."

"I'm not exactly a pussycat myself, Alfred," said Selina, looking at the room she had just left. "I thought you would like him? He's British like you."

"He is not like me," hissed Alfred. "Please, Miss Kyle, be careful. I would prefer it if you stayed in your own room tonight. I do not trust that man."

"I don't need your advice on men, Alfred."

"Please madam! If you don't you will eat no more of my meals under this roof."

Selina looked at him shrewdly. He was looking determined enough to carry out the threat and the thought of no more of Alfred's cooking made even Selina shudder.

"You have yourself a deal," she said, and rubbed a finger under Alfred's chin and playfully made to undo his bow tie. "You know how to tempt a woman, Alfred."

Alfred moved her hands away irritably. "Thank you madam." He went back and locked the door to Bond's room.

* * *

Batman leapt backwards. The floor beneath erupted, cracked and disintegrated from the hail of bullets that hit it. He cartwheeled backwards, the bullets catching the edge of his cape and perforating it. The guns stopped just as suddenly as they started as soon as he threw himself from the kill zone. There was a clicking sound as several guns were cocked and aimed at Batman from half a dozen thugs. There at the front, grinning broadly, was the Joker and behind him, looking distinctly bedraggled from his impromptu dip in the river, was Jaws.

"Batman, so good of you to drop in. I'd love you to meet a new friend of mine. His smile puts even mine into the shade."

* * *

Selina closed the door to her bedroom and sighed deeply. She was so looking forward to a fun evening with Bond. There was something about him that set her pulse racing. Most men she could wrap round her little finger, but not Bond. He didn't always do what she wanted and that excited as well as annoyed her. Oh well, Bruce might be back later but he was always so serious after his nighttime forays. She was almost tempted to put on the suit and join him. She was just about to take off her clothes and slide into her cat suit when she heard a cough.

"Don't stop on my account."

"How did you get in here?"

"The window. How long do we have before Alfred comes knocking?"

"How long do you need?" She slinked towards Bond.

* * *

Jaws aimed a punch at Batman, which he ducked and sent a scissor kick into the big man's knee in an attempt to bring him down. Jaws grunted with pain, grabbed Batman by one leg and threw him into a series of packing cases. He relaxed before he landed to minimise the damage.

"I'll leave you and Jaws to get better acquainted," said the Joker. "I'd love to chat and catch up on old times, but time's a-wasting! Ciao for now! Don't kill him, Jaws, just rough him up a bit. The boss will want to deal with him personally."

Batman got his feet and punched Jaws on the jaw. That was a big mistake. If it wasn't for his reinforced glove and the years of training he had forced himself to do he would have broken his hand. Jaws grabbed him by the neck and lifted him clean off the floor. Batman kicked Jaws in the stomach and chest forcing the big man to let him go. He rolled on the ground and spun his legs round to trip Jaws up. With a thundering crash Jaws fell to the ground.

He could not allow this fight to take all his time. He had to get to the Joker. With that madman free God knows how many hundreds would die. Jaws kicked him in the stomach and sent him sliding over the ground and into the guns' kill zone again. If it weren't for his exceptional reactions and some amazing acrobatics he would have been killed.

He got to his feet and looked about in shock. Jaws, the Joker and his men had gone. He looked about at the heavy security surrounding this new part of Wayne Tech. He couldn't get in there, not on his own. There was only person he knew who could break into a place like this…

* * *

There was a sharp rapping at the door and Alfred let himself in.

"Miss Kyle, I thought you should know…" Alfred looked aghast. "Good grief. I'm so sorry."

"You've never seen a naked cat before?"

Alfred blushed a crimson colour and stared at the wall. "I'm so sorry for bursting in, madam. I just thought you should know Master Bruce is on his way back." He stole a glance to his left, shuddered and looked back at the wall. "Please forgive the intrusion, but he would like a word with you when he gets back. I've also brought you your nightgown, madam. I apologise it was not here for you when you arrived." Alfred without looking behind him edged to the bed and put it carefully down. He then started edging out.

"Thank you, Alfred, but I always sleep au naturel, don't you?"

"At my age the chills do affect me, madam. I have some striped pyjamas and slippers. I really should be going, madam."

"I can just picture you in slippers, Alfred," said Selina, holding the duvet under her chin, "and nothing else."

"Please madam, I'm an old man! I will just see if Mr Bond has settled in. I have a mug of hot chocolate and some marshmallows for him."

There was a rustling sound from the window. "I'll just close the curtains madam. We don't want you catching a chill." With a clunking sound he shut the window and produced a small key to lock it shut. "That should stop any night-time visitors," he muttered to himself. There was a tapping sound from the window. Alfred closed the curtain behind him.

"Apologies for disturbing you, madam." There was an even more insistent knocking sound from the window. "I wonder who that could be?" With a wry smile he flicked back the curtains and almost fell back in shock. Where he had been expecting a bedraggled British agent caught quite literally with his pants down, there was a tall sinister bat-like creature. A rather battered, bedraggled, and quite put out bat-like creature.

"Alfred, open the window! I am not breaking into my own mansion."

With a hurried apology Alfred unlocked the window and let Batman in. "What is going on here? Why are you locking windows on the third floor of my mansion and what are you doing in the same room as a naked Selina?"

"I do apologise sir, it is not what it seems."

"It better not be."

"Don't be horrible to him, Brucey, he was just bringing me my nightgown and talking about what he wears in bed." She looked at him playfully. "Is this the big bad jealous boyfriend coming out? Does that mean we are officially an item?"

Bruce peeled off his mask and looked at Alfred in surprise. "Nothing to be jealous about, is there?" he said, ignoring the second part of the phrase about commitment in time-honoured boyfriend style.

"Didn't have time," muttered Selina under her breath. "Anyway dear, how was your day at the office?"


	10. Visiting time at Wayne Tech

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Ten**

The Joker sat at the table with his feet up. He was grinning at the other men in the meeting, not that he had much choice. The man at the head of the table was stroking a very expensive white Persian cat. The man was scarred with piercing blue eyes. The soulless eyes of a killer.

"Report number five," he hissed.

"The device is not yet fully functional, number one," said Damian Alvey, the director in charge of Wayne Tech.

"The plan was for it to be operational today."

"We are having to move the device. It is getting too unhealthy for us to stay."

"You have failed me."

"I was not in charge of security. You hired the Joker and his gang to look after the place."

"Are you saying I am wrong?" hissed Blofeld.

"Kids, kids," said the Joker. "This is not getting anything done."

"Silence."

"Talk to me like that again, bub, and I'll give you a matching scar on the other side. I'm only here for what I was promised. One little nuclear warhead! I mean you have six and there is a plot of land I know that is just dying for some urban regeneration."

"You will only get what was promised if you can keep the warehouse clear of uninvited guests for another twenty-four hours."

Damian Alvey was sweating a bit. "We've got a bit of a problem with that, sir."

"What?"

"Bruce Wayne is still alive and he has a scheduled visit today."

"Terminate him when he arrives."

"It'll be too suspicious if he disappears there. Everyone knows he is visiting us today!"

"Question my orders again and I'll have you executed for dereliction of duty."

"We've also seen James Bond sniffing around. We've been monitoring his movements. He's staying with Wayne as well."

"Bond…" hissed Blofeld while touching the scar on his face that 007 had put there three years earlier.

"I think we should cancel the plan."

"No."

"At least put it on hold for a few weeks till the heat's off."

"No. The plan will go ahead as scheduled."

"Okay, okay," said Alvey. "We found out where the leak from your organisation was from sir." Alvey got his mobile out and rang one number. "Bring him in, Jaws."

The door opened and Nicholas Bennett, the man responsible for auditing Wayne Tech and telling the federal services about accounting malpractice, was pushed in by Jaws. He was looking terrified and he tried to fight off Jaws but it was like trying to fight against a rock.

"You told the intelligence services what was going on," said Blofeld.

"No! I didn't tell them anything was going on. I just report accounting malpractice."

"Because of you we are having to alter our plans."

"Please let me go! I'm only an accountant. I don't mean to harm anyone."

"Jaws, kill him."

There was a heartrending scream from Bennett as Jaws dragged him outside the room. The scream was abruptly cut off outside.

"Anyone else want a bite to eat?"

* * *

Bond walked down the stairs of Wayne Manor. He checked his watch. Eight o'clock. Alfred was down at the bottom of the stairs.

"Good morning, Mr Bond. Breakfast is served, sir."

"Thank you Alfred."

"I trust you slept well, sir?"

"Well enough."

"Through here, please sir."

Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle were already having breakfast in the dining room.

"Morning, Mr Bond," said Bruce. "Slept well I hope? We are going to have a busy day."

Bond sat down and started eating. "Are you going to Wayne Tech today?"

"Yes. I have a little proposition for you."

"Go on."

"Wayne Tech has been divided into a new high security section. I can't get in there on my own. We need someone to turn off the power so Selina can break into the place."

"I am not a handyman."

"This is not a job for a handyman." Bruce laid out the plans of Wayne Tech on the table. "The power supply is here."

"Right next to a guard room."

"If you can destroy or disable the generator it will take thirty seconds before the emergency power cuts in. In that time Selina can get past the gun turrets and electrified wall and into the elevator."

"I might have to kill some of your precious guards."

With a thump sound that rattled some of the boiled eggs out of their holders Bruce put a sleek black gun on the table. "This gun fires tranquillizer darts. Effective range forty yards. If you hit anyone on the skin it will knock them out in under a second. Do you think you can use this?"

Bond picked up the gun and aimed it at a picture of a group of cavaliers on the wall. In two seconds four of them had a dart sticking out of their forehead. "Seems simple enough. Might I ask where you got such a device and why you think Selina will be able to break into such a place?"

"You can ask…" said Bruce making it clear he would not get an answer.

"Will your guards be using a tranquillizer gun?"

"Probably not."

"I'll use this but if I need to I'll shoot to kill."

Bruce's face froze at this comment but he forced himself to smile. "I hope you won't need to."

"And while we are doing this you will just be being given a guided tour? Whoever is behind this is playing for keeps. How do we know they won't simply kill you?"

"Bruce is rather good at looking after himself," said Selina.

"So while I'm playing chase with the guards and destroying their power, you'll be disabling their security? What will you be doing then, Bruce?"

"Asking annoying questions and questioning their efficiency. Everything a good boss should do when visiting a company."

"My mission is to find the nuclear missile and terminate whoever is responsible."

"You're not killing anyone in my city but I am just as interested as you in finding this nuclear missile."

Bond pocketed the tranquillizer gun. "I'll work with you for this time then." He sampled some of the fish and then said, "Alfred, I'll have some more of that Rainbow trout please? From one of the great lakes of Wisconsin by the taste, right?"

* * *

Catwoman looked down in the street below. Bruce Wayne and Alfred were just pulling into the Wayne Tech parking lot. She used her whip to attach to a telecom wire that ran to the building and swung herself up until she was hanging by her ankles one hundred feet above street level.

The communicator buzzed in her ear. "Are you in position?"

"Yes, Bruce. I'll be on the roof shortly." She crawled along the cable until she was over the roof and then she dropped the twenty feet to the roof and rolled when she landed to slow her momentum. The roof was looking distinctly battered since the last two visitors and there was a team of workmen fixing the glass up ahead. She crawled along the roof on her stomach keeping a very low profile. She even went past a flock of pigeons roosting on the roof and they didn't even wake up. She licked her lips. The sight made her hungry.

One of the workmen had left a cheese and pickle sandwich, a carton of orange juice and a chocolate bar next to where he was replacing the pane of glass. When he turned around to start eating, only the chocolate bar was left (she was on a diet).

* * *

"Bruce Wayne to see Damian Alvey," said Alfred into the telecommunications device next to the main gate.

"Bruce Wayne? Mr Wayne! Yes sir. Gate opening now, sir!" The gate opened with a clanking noise and Alfred drove the limousine into the car park. A space had been left for him just outside the main building.

Alfred got out the car and opened the door for Bruce Wayne. A man came running out of the building towards them. Bruce tensed and Alfred could sense his demeanour changing.

"Mr Wayne! Mr Wayne!" said Damian Alvey. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here to greet you at the gate. I've just got out of an important meeting."

"Damian," said Bruce and curtly nodded his head. For a moment Alvey wasn't too sure who he was scared of most, Blofeld or Wayne?

"Indeed, indeed," said Damian Alvey. "If you could follow me please? Is your man accompanying you?"

"Yes."

"Of course he is, of course he is," said Damian. "And your name is?"

"Pennyworth, Alfred Pennyworth."

"Of course, of course," said Damian nervously. "Please come in, gentlemen. Can I get you a coffee? Tea? Biscuit? Whisky? It's a little early for whisky, perhaps, but you never know!" He laughed nervously.

"We'll have a coffee," said Bruce, "and a chat."

"Certainly, certainly," said Damian. "Please follow me, gentlemen."

They walked through a modern looking corridor. Both sides had glass panels and there were people in static prevention suits working in both sides. "These are our static, dust and magnetic field free areas where we are working on the latest technology. It is our nano-technology work."

"The same work that Feynman, Gimzewski and Kroto are working on?" said Wayne.

"We've improved on their work, Bruce," said Damian, his confidence getting back as he was in his own territory again. "Please let me show you my office and we can talk about this at length."

* * *

Catwoman was crawling along the wall outside the complex. Her clawed hands and feet gave her plenty of purchase. She used a small dental mirror to check the next window along. Good. It seemed to be an empty office. She clambered up onto the window ledge and started to open the window when something made her stop. The paint was peeling on the inside of the window and a small wire was exposed. The window was alarmed. Fifty feet up and they alarmed the windows. They didn't trust anyone in this city.

Tutting to herself, she slid a small sliver of metal under the window to continue the electrical connection and then opened the window quietly. She crouched on the desk and closed the window behind her. The door in front of her opened and a man walked in with a cup of coffee. He sat down on his chair and put his coffee to one side while he checked his phone for any voice mail. When he next turned around his coffee had gone…

"Sit down, sit down," said Alvey. "I'll bring you some coffee in."

They were sitting in a very plush office with views on both sides of Gotham. The desk had the latest voice over IP phone and had a small digital screen to show who was talking to him. There were several pictures of yachts, his pride and joy, on the wall. A photo on his desk showed a family photo of them out at sea somewhere. There were two other photos of his son on the desk.

Alvey returned shortly with three cups of steaming coffee. "Have some coffee, gentlemen. I forgot to ask if you wanted sugar so I brought some sachets in. I'm preparing a presentation for you. Just a minute." Alvey started clicking on his laptop to look for the right file.

"How's your son?" asked Bruce, thinking back. "Wasn't he in a car crash recently?"

Damian stopped typing and tensed. "He's getting better, God willing. In fact what we are working on might be able to help him. It might be able to help everybody I hope."

Bruce looked over at Alfred who was sniffing the coffee. He gave Bruce a barely imperceptible shake of his head and mouthed the word, "cyanide". Alfred got to his feet and 'accidentally' tipped over the coffee tray all over Alvey's desk.

"I'm terribly sorry, how clumsy of me," said Alfred. "You two wait there. I'll get some paper towels. Do go on without me."

Damian Alvey paled at this latest development and lifted his laptop out of the rapidly increasing pool of coffee on his desk. "I can get you another coffee," he said.

"Don't worry about that," said Bruce. "Just carry on with the presentation."

* * *

In the corridor, 'Alfred' removed his lifelike rubber mask to reveal James Bond. He turned his chauffeur's jacket inside out to reveal a Wayne Tech Security jacket complete with logo. He attached a plastic identification label to the front and started walking down the corridor.

He had only seen the building plans once, briefly, but that was all he needed. His gun was snugly in his shoulder holster and its closeness gave him confidence. A guardroom was next door to the power generator. He opened the door to the guardroom.

"Who the hell are…" one of the guards who was sitting down reading a paper said, before a dart caught him in the neck. Three other guards fell silently to the ground as well, a dart sticking out of each of their foreheads.

Bond pocketed the gun and closed the door to the guardroom. He got a small vial out of his pocket and poured it into the lock. There was a strong smell of burning and the lock melted shut. They would have to batter their way out. There was a running sound behind him and without even looking he shot a dart behind him and the guard came crashing down at his feet.

* * *

Catwoman slinked along the corridor into the warehouse. She crawled along the tops of the wooden boxes and leapt agilely over gaps. The secure section Bruce Wayne was interested in was up ahead. She looked about. There were two security cameras sweeping the area and five gun turrets. She grabbed hold of the gantry about a hundred feet from the ground and crawled nimbly upside down towards the cameras. On each of them she attached a small digital device that would take the last thirty seconds of visual feed and loop it back so anyone watching the cameras would see no difference.

"Don't move, catlady!" said a voice. "I've got you in my sights."

She hissed in annoyance and looked behind her. A guard had clambered to the top of the boxes and was aiming a machine gun at the small of her back.

Catwoman dropped from her high perch and lashed out with her whip at the guard whilst falling. The whip yanked the gun out of his hand. She span around in midair and snaked her whip out again which wrapped it around the gantry. She put one foot in the whip's handle, caught the falling gun in one hand and rolled in midair towards the guard and caught the man, while still spinning herself, with a fist. She caught the guard before he fell and lowered him gently down. She spun the gun around with one hand and ejected the cartridge case, which she placed gently by the comatose guard.

Her whip, which was still hanging from the gantry, was still swinging. She caught it on the next pass and gave it a shake to free it. She looked at her watch. The power should be going down in five minutes. She curled up at the top of the packing cases and watched and waited…

* * *

The lights were down in the office and Damian Alvey was showing Bruce Wayne a presentation on the screen. Alvey, despite Bruce's insistence, had brought in another two coffees. Bruce had another coffee in front of him. He had sniffed it cautiously when it came in and could not detect any poisons. He sipped it, allowing the coffee to percolate over his lips and tongue. There was no strange taste, no peculiar tingling sensations that could indicate a poison.

"We've come along in leaps and bounds in nano technology, Bruce," said Alvey, showing a picture of an experimental setup for cantilever arrays. "We can get a cantilever 500 u long and just 1 u thick."

"What does this mean in real terms?"

"These nano-droids, as we call them, can change DNA. They can even change people at a subatomic level. Cancer? It could be a thing of the past. Malaria? Viruses? We can change their DNA at a subatomic level to whatever we want it to be. If you lose a leg, an arm or use of your back we can program your DNA with these nano-droids to force your body to regrow itself. Hell. We can even tell your body to stop aging if we want it to!" Despite himself Bruce was fascinated by this talk. "You ever wanted to be a superhero?" Alvey asked.

"Me? A superhero?"

"Hell, of course you have. Everyone has. We are working on the DNA of superheroes we have on file. When we find out what the flying or superstrength or whatever it is comes from we can get these to program our own DNA."

"This work sounds incredible. Why have I not heard about it before?"

"We've hit a flaw. To even change one human we would need to have at least 200,000 nano-droids. Previously we had only been able to manufacture a couple of hundred or so using a particle accelerator, huge magnetic fields and a very small controlled source of neutrons and protons. We created enough to change daphnia and fruit flies, but that is all."

"What's the problem?"

"We need a clean pure source of fissile uranium. Only when we have a large controlled release of protons and neutrons can we make these nano-droids in sufficient numbers to make a difference." Alvey started smiling.

"Fissile uranium? Where would you get such a source? A nuclear missile?" Bruce was starting to sweat. His breath was getting shallow. Something was wrong with him…

"This won't be a problem for you, Wayne," said Alvey, his voice hardening.

"Why not?" Bruce Wayne was having real trouble breathing. He caught a glance of his reflection in Alvey's glass desk and was shocked to realise he was going a strange mottled red colour.

"As you're already dead. The very air you are breathing is filled with thousands of nano-droids and they are all programmed in on your DNA to kill you from a cellular level."

**James Bond will return in Chapter Eleven! (Just not too sure about Bruce Wayne?)**


	11. Nanodroids, millions of them

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Eleven**

"You cannot fight it, Wayne," said Damian Alvey, a flicker of a smile appearing at the corner of his lips. "We can rule the world with this technology. Now we can create these nano-droids in their millions, we can program them to wipe out individuals or entire countries if we so please! They have no feelings, they can not be stopped and they are completely programmable."

Bruce was unable to breathe. His vision was becoming clouded with black dots.

"How does it feel, Wayne? To know that your company has created a new world! A world without weakness, starvation or disease. A world run by an organisation with strong leaders?" He grabbed hold of Bruce's chin and looked into his eyes with a strange fanatical look. "A shame you won't be here to see it!"

Bruce grabbed hold of the table lamp, smashed the bulb and jabbed the live connection to his own chest.

"Aaaahhiieee!" screamed Alvey as the current travelled through Bruce to him. He was thrown off Bruce Wayne who was shaking and convulsing with electricity. Tendrils of blue electricity were flickering over the still body of Bruce Wayne…

* * *

James Bond used a skeleton key to open the generator room. He looked at his watch. Now was as good a time as any. He glanced over the settings on the generator and immediately took in the important facts. He opened up a small cabinet on the left and pulled down a small lever. The generator stopped making a noise and all over the building the power went out.

* * *

As soon as the power went Catwoman leapt into action. The five gun turrets stopped moving and Catwoman threw some small plastic charges at two of the five. Three guards next to the elevator didn't see what hit them as she used her whip to trip one of them up and kicked the second one in the chin. The third one had just enough time to aim his gun in her direction when an elbow caught him in the throat. There were three more gun turrets to disable and four more guards came running towards her…

* * *

In the darkened generator room a cigarette lighter fizzled into view casting light on a clownish, almost wraithlike face. 

"Well, well, you must be the British agent."

"You must be the Joker."

"Yes, the smile is a dead giveaway, isn't it?"

Bond shot a tranquilliser dart at the Joker, which just missed.

"Tetchy, aren't we." The Joker kicked out at Bond, which in the half-light connected with Bond's stomach and made him drop the tranquillizer gun. The gun skittered under the generator. "We need some light on the situation…" The Joker pulled the power switch back up, bathing the generator room in light and restoring power to the building.

* * *

Two of the gun turrets blew up as the plastic explosive Selina had thrown at them exploded. Bit of hot metal and shrapnel rained down on the fight below. Four guards surrounded Catwoman but they were heavy and slow and compared with her seemed to be moving through mud. A baseball bat connected with her body but she used the extra momentum it gave her to scissor kick a guard under the chin. Using her whip she wound it round a guard and dragged him towards her. 

"Hit a girl would you?" she said, and gave him a mouth that would give a dentist enough money to get a holiday in Bermuda.

One of the thugs, old and scarred and veteran of a hundred bar room brawls, and winner of them all, tried to kick her in the knee to bring her down. She somehow twisted herself past this and kicked him viciously in the crotch while simultaneously elbowing him in the face, breaking his nose. With a high pitched scream he fell to the floor and gave the remaining gun turrets the target they were looking for.

* * *

The generator room was suddenly bathed in light and Bond rolled on the floor, narrowly avoiding the Joker shooting at him. Bond hid behind the generator as the Joker loosed off shot after shot at him. 

"Please come out and play?"

The bullets bounced off the metal generator, creating huge sparks. Several of them bounced off the walls and even made the Joker jump, although he giggled at each of them. "Come out, come out wherever you are! I've got something that will bring a smile to your face." He threw a gas grenade behind the generator and laughed manically. Bond looked down in shock as a green gas poured out of the grenade at his feet.

* * *

Catwoman cartwheeled along the floor, the bullets following her path. The concrete floor behind her disintegrated and cracked under the onslaught. She could not get to the elevator because the entire metal wall was electrified. The gun turrets were getting closer to her and she was getting tired. She had been winded in the fight and was starting to slow down…

* * *

The Joker was laughing manically. The whole room was filled with green gas. Just a mouthful of the gas would give anyone a playing card smile and a body only a coroner could love. He had spent months building up immunity to it by giving it to himself in small doses. A form appeared through the gas. 

"That's impossible! Ooof!" Bond punched the Joker in the stomach and kneed him in the chin. He was wearing a small re-breather that filtered the toxins out of the air. He held the Joker up with hand and switched off the power again with the other.

"Come on Joker, give me a smile!"

* * *

Bruce Wayne shakily got to his feet. He was feeling pretty weak and groggy. Damian Alvey had been knocked out by the power surge. He checked Alvey's pulse. He was alive, just. He used Alvey's own tie to bind his hands behind his back. He had to hope that the surge of electricity through his body had knocked out the nano-droids in his body. He breathed deeply. He was able to breathe without too much pain. He looked at his reflection in the glass table. His skin was as white as snow but not bloodshot, which it had been. 

He felt his strength returning as he got to his feet. He got a communicator out of his pocket. "Bond, this is Wayne, what's going on?"

"I've just run into the Joker. You okay there?"

"I've been better. Catwoman, have you disabled the security?"

There was the distant sound of explosions. "The last gun turret is gone, honey, and the guards are catching up on their beauty sleep and believe me they need it."

"Good, we'll meet up at the elevator."

"Are you okay, you sound different?"

"I'm fine," he said in a husky voice. "Just go! Go!"

Bruce walked out of the office. He did not feel like running at the moment. He passed the bodies of several guards in the corridor, all with a tranquillizer dart in the forehead. He leaned against the wall. The room was beginning to spin. He controlled his nausea and carried on walking past the office section and into the main warehouse. Catwoman and Bond were waiting in the elevator. With a humming sound power returned to the complex. The electrified wall and elevator fizzled out as Catwoman disabled the power to that section.

Catwoman ran up to Bruce. "You don't look well. What happened?"

"They are using nano-droids to kill people. They are using the uranium in the nuclear warheads to build millions of them. We have to stop them."

Bond stood in the lift. "Are you going down with me?" he asked Selina. She arched her eyebrows at this and pressed the down button in the elevator.

Bruce leaned against the elevator wall, closing his eyes to try and control the nausea he felt. He concentrated, using Kuji Myo Himitsu Shaku or the Secret Knowledge of Inner Strength. He tapped into his dormant spiritual power and felt a great strength pour through his damaged body. His face returned to a normal colour and his spine straightened as he stood up properly again. He opened his eyes and instead of looking old and bloodshot they looked at the world through his piercing clear blue eyes again.

"Impressive," said Bond, looking at Wayne. "I've only seen one person I know do that and he was a warrior mystic in Japan. What's a playboy like you doing with a trick like that?"

"You pick up a lot in Gotham."

"Nonsense. And that kick you performed in the revolving restaurant earlier. That was a tae kwon doe kick. The last person I saw use that was a fifth dan in the art. True, I strangled him with his own black belt after he tried to use it on me. The only other person I've seen use such a wide mix of skills was the Batman."

"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is stopping the Joker and Blofeld."

"The Joker is currently chained to a generator. If he so much as twitches he will get fried. That should wipe the smile from his face."

The lift carried on dropping into the earth. One hundred feet. Two hundred feet. Three hundred feet. Eventually with a squealing of brakes it juddered to a halt far beneath the surface of Gotham.

With a ping sound the lift opened. Cautiously Bond, Wayne and Selina edged out. They were in the middle of a huge white modern looking complex. Behind them was a huge circular tube of a particle accelerator. Using the immense magnetic fields and the controlled particles from the uranium from the nuclear warheads they were making tens of thousands of nano-droids every second. In the middle of the vast room was a huge glass tower that was seething with so many nano-droids it seemed to be alive. The grey mass was pulsing and changing shape every second. Several hundred technicians dressed in white lab coats were studying computer terminals and controlling the output. On walk ways above them were about a dozen guards. All with machine guns and watchful glances.

In front of them was Blofeld, with Jaws standing watch over him. Bond instantly fired two tranquilliser darts at the two. A glass wall hissed up between them and the darts fell useless to the ground.

"As predictable as ever, Bond," hissed Blofeld. "You are one of the few lucky people to see the dawn of a new human empire. For the first time I have a controllable weapon. It is not clumsy or destructive like a nuclear weapon or indiscriminate like a plague, but totally controllable. I can send these nano-droids to wipe out a city, to purge a country or just to kill a president or prime minister. The world spends too long bickering over politics, fighting over worthless land or arguing over food mountains while whole countries starve. When people start dying, when cities start disintegrating, people will look for a saviour. I will rule a united planet, not a disparate group of rogue nations. For once…"

"My bullet missed your throat last time," said Bond. "Next time you will not be so lucky."

"You are one of the chosen few Mr Bond. You will be one of the first victims of a new super race of billions of nano-droids we have created here." Blofeld pressed a button on a keyboard in front of him. A small panel opened up in the glass tower above him and the nano-droids drifted towards them, as light as smoke and as dangerous as nuclear wind.

A technician screamed as he was caught in the nano droids. By the time he hit the ground there was nothing left but bones…


	12. Mr Speen comes to town

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Twelve**

The nano-droids scattered around the complex, killing technicians and guards indiscriminately.

"Come, Jaws, we must leave Mr Bond and his friends to their fate." Blofeld and Jaws ran to the lift. Behind them a technician tried to follow them but was consumed by a grey mass of nano-droids.

Bond, Wayne and Catwoman were trapped behind the glass wall. Bruce Wayne kicked the glass wall surrounding them and it shattered. A swarm of nano droids started to stream in towards them.

"Our situation has not improved," said Bond.

"We need to get out of here, boys," said Selina.

The nano-droids had consumed some of the guards and technicians and reformed into a huge grey cloud above them. A few luckless technicians tried to run towards the lift and the cloud of nano droids gathered around them in a menacing black mist.

"We need to reactivate the particle accelerator. The magnetic fields will disrupt the nano-droids," said Bruce. "I hope," he muttered under his breath afterwards.

Bond leapt off the walkway next to the lift and fell the ten feet to the ground. He rolled on the ground to slow his fall and ran towards the console.

The grey cloud of nano-droids started drifting towards Bond. Bruce Wayne leapt off the walkway and landed behind Bond. In seconds he had passed Bond. The console for the particle accelerator was about forty yards away. Bond ran faster to catch up with Wayne.

The cloud of nano-droids was forming above them and the air was full of the sound of buzzing. They ran past a sign – "No metal objects allowed past this point." And sat down at the console. Catwoman had used her whip to swing to the console before them and was sitting down there already with a smug look on her face.

"So, do you know how to use this?" asked Bond.

"No. Do you?" said Wayne.

"No. Let's do it together," said Bond. "Okay. Damping ring. Engaged. Positron source. Engaged."

"I'll power up the e-gun and the 200 MeV injector."

"Do you two even know what you're doing?" asked Catwoman.

The cloud of nano-droids had worked out they were the only people left alive and were converging on them. The lights darkened and a buzzing sound like a swarm of bees surrounded them. A whispering voice started which seemed to come from everywhere. "Your plan can not succeed, you will die… All will die…"

"Powering up the high energy ring," said Bond. Selina raised one eyebrow at this and then gasped in shock as her metal claws were torn off her hands along with her communicator and a few other metal objects, including Bond's gun, which were thrown with great force against the particle accelerator. The cloud of nano-droids disappeared in an instant, swept onto the particle accelerator. The buzzing sound stopped straight away and the light cleared.

"We'd better get out of here," said Bruce.

"Commencing primary detonation sequence," said a female voice from the speakers. "Destruction will commence in 60 seconds, 59, 58…"

By the time the counter had reached 48 seconds, Bond, Wayne and Selina were at the lift and jabbing the button continuously.

"Destruction of the plant will commence in 45 seconds, 44, 43…"

"Come on dammit!" hissed Bond. With a ping sound the lift door opened and they all piled in.

"Destruction of the plant will commence in 30 seconds, 29, 28…"

The lift started its slow journey towards the surface. The speaker was continuing the methodical count. "21,20,19…"

Bond kicked the slow lift in frustration. "We'll be caught in the explosion here."

"Agreed," said Wayne. "Let's get out of here." Bruce leapt four feet in the air and grabbed hold of the maintenance hatch and was out of the lift in seconds. He leaned down and helped up Selina Kyle and James Bond.

"8, 7, 6…"

They were standing up on the lift looking up. Above them they could see the thin sliver of light showing the doors up above them as the lift trundled slowly upwards.

"5, 4, 3."

"Time to go," said Bond.

They all three started clambering up the lift shaft. Below them was a deep rumbling sound and suddenly the shaft started heating up. They clambered to the top and levered open the doors and fell out.

The lift doors behind them started glowing red. They all three ran from the lift shaft and looked behind them. The door and metal floor started glowing red and warped as they watched. A foul acrid smoke could be smelt as the base below melted into molten slag.

* * *

In the shadows outside the building was a man accustomed to working unseen. He took it as a personal affront if he was seen at parties, let alone spoken to. It was a skill he could use in the outside world. Alfred aimed a small radar dish at the men leaving the building. It could pick up and transcribe everything that was being said.

Blofeld and Jaws were walking out of the building. Behind them the Joker was rubbing his wrists where Bond had handcuffed him to the generator. Damian Alvey, looking very groggy, was following behind.

"Gotham is getting too hot for me to stay. Jaws, you will accompany me to the main base. Joker…"

"Yes, baldy?"

"You will get your little toy. Do with it what you will. I want the world to concentrate on you while I concentrate on the world. Do we have an understanding? The warhead is contained in this location." He handed him a card.

"You've made this old clown very happy," said the Joker. "I've got some big plans for that firecracker."

The Joker minced off to a waiting car.

The shadows seemed to get slightly deeper where Alfred was hiding as he, light-footed, made his way to where the Joker's car was. Taking care to stay out of the view of the rear view mirrors he knelt down and applied a small magnetic bug to the underside of the tailpipe of the car.

Damian Alvey walked nervously up to Blofeld. "Blofeld… Sir… What about me? Am I to accompany you? What about my family?"

Blofeld fixed him with an expressionless glare. "Go back to your family. Go back to your job. Go back to your life. SPECTRE has no further use for you."

Alvey walked up to his car, looking nervously over his shoulder every few seconds. He got in the car and tried the key. The expected explosion did not happen. He had made some bad mistakes in the past few years. He had nearly destroyed all he had worked for. And for what? For his son to have a better chance at life than he had. To be able to walk again. To be able to laugh again. Blofeld had promised it all and to be honest he had delivered. His son was now able to walk again and play baseball again. The last evening when he had hit a home run in the school games was the best moment in his life. He had a chance to live his life again. He would not mess it up again…

Blofeld watched him drive off as a helicopter landed behind them. A man walked out of the helicopter towards Blofeld. He was quite a nondescript looking man. No scars. No metal appendages. He was dressed in a smart business suit and his face had laughter lines. He looked like a businessman. There was a skinny teenager next to him with the beginnings of a small goatee beard. The type of man who found it easy to laugh and smile. When he smiled, and he smiled often, the smile never touched his eyes.

"Donnington Speen," said Blofeld. "We have a clean up situation we need taken care of by you and your associate. Start off with Alvey and his family and his secretary. Check his phone records. Find out who he has been in contact with in the past two hours and terminate them. If Bruce Wayne and Mr Bond have survived this evening then kill them as well."

Speen got a small snub-nosed pistol from his shoulder holster. "A pleasure. Ten thousand per hit. Standard fee. Families cost double."

"What? Why?"

"Psychiatrist fees. Such an event plays havoc with the emotions. Also I'm training up my boy here as well."

"Dane Paxton, Mr Blofeld," said the young man with a goatee beard. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. We've got a standard clean up operation, have we?"

"There is nothing standard about Gotham city, Mr Paxton. If the Batman tries to stop you, kill him as well."

"I've never killed a costume before, Mr Blofeld," said Donnington Speen, getting out a small notepad. "He'll cost you $100,000. It'll be extra if you want any of his associates done away with as well?"

"Just kill them. Kill them all. Send me the bill."

"Certainly, Mr Blofeld, certainly. Come on, Dane my boy, we've got a busy night…"

* * *

Bond, Wayne and Catwoman ran out of the building and were just in time to see the helicopter with Blofeld in it taking off. Several cars were also roaring out of the car park. Inside one Bruce could see the face of the Joker.

"Damn it, they've escaped."

"We'll find them, we'll find them," said Bruce.

A car purred up next to them and inside could be seen the reassuring face of Alfred.

* * *

Damian Alvey had reached his house. He left the car running and ran into his house. His wife was at the door.

"What's the matter? What's wrong?"

"We're out of here. We're going." He knew that Blofeld could not let him live. Not with what he knew.

"Where?"

"Anywhere. Grab Jack. Get in the car."

"We can't just go! We can't just leave! What about all our things?"

"You don't understand, Marie. I made a pact with a devil to save Jack and now he will be coming to collect."

"What do you mean? What have you done?"

"I don't have time to talk; just grab him and go!"

Marie ran to the bottom of the stairs and started calling. "Jack! Jack dear! We're going out. Come downstairs. Quick as you can."

Another car pulled up behind theirs. Alvey looked at who was in it. Two men. Not anyone he recognised. They must be hit men. "Shit. Shit!" He closed the front door and grabbed Marie and Jack, who was just walking downstairs clutching his Gameboy. "Upstairs! Now! Come on, damn it!"

"That's naughty language, Daddy!" said Jack, looking up at him with his big blue eyes.

"Just go! Upstairs! Now!"

The doorbell rang and Julianna, their maid, waddled up to the front door. "I'll get it, Mr Alvey. I have to go and get some more milk from Walmart anyway."

"No, don't!" shouted Alvey.

* * *

The door to the big house opened and Donnington took off his hat to talk to the lady who opened it.

"Excuse me madam, we are looking for Mr Alvey…"

There was a shot next to him and the lady was blown back into the house.

Donnington looked aggrievedly at Dane. "What did you do that for? I was talking to her!"

"We've got to kill them all."

"That's what's wrong with the young generation. No time to talk to people. Mr Alvey is our prime target. We need these others to be kept alive, at least until we know where he is. You know what my prison psychiatrist said to me?"

"Which one?"

"The one I tried to eat."

"Not much, from what I recall. You killed him, didn't you?"

"Exactly. A mistake I try not to repeat. If I hadn't killed him I might have learned something useful from him."

"Like what, Donny?"

"I don't know, and don't call me Donny. My name is Mr Speen to you."

"Sorry Donny, I mean Mr Speen. What do we do now?"

There was a big boom from the stairs and the statue next to the front door disintegrated into a shower of marble.

"You're not killing me! Blofeld sent you, right?"

Donnington and Dane were now standing on either side of the doorframe.

"Mr Alvey? Is that you?"

"Yeah! I'm getting out of here and you can't stop me!"

Dane got a small machine gun out from his brief case and rattled off half a magazine up the stairs towards Alvey. Donnington covered his ears at this outburst.

"Please Dane, let the adults sort this out in a grownup manner." He peered around the doorframe and immediately jerked his head back as a huge chunk of the doorframe was removed. "I'm sorry about my colleague, Mr Alvey. He does get somewhat over exuberant. Mr Blofeld only wants you dead, sir. We'll leave your family alone if you give yourself up."

"No he doesn't," said Dane looking at a small notebook. "The order quite specifically says…"

There was another boom as the shotgun fired. "I was lying. Like when your mother called you a good looking intelligent man," said Donnington patiently. "I know Blofeld wants them all dead, but up until the point you opened that gaping great maw of yours Alvey didn't."

"Sorry Donny, I mean Mr Speen."

"You keep him talking, I'll deal with him."

"What do you mean keep him talking? What should I talk about?"

"I would have thought that even in that vacuous hole you call a head there would be enough to fill a five minute conversation?"

"I've got several hobbies…"

"I don't think that picking your nose and gazing vacantly into space could be called a hobby. Although to be fair you have taken those activities to an art form."

Donnington put his pistol in his shoulder holster and started clambering up the trellis next to the door. In seconds he was at the first floor window. He peered through the window and could see the staircase. There at the top of the staircase was Alvey's wife and son huddled together in fear. Damian Alvey was holding a huge shotgun and was busy reloading it whilst looking down the stairs at the front door.

He quietly levered open the window and let himself into the house, making less noise that the ghost of a mouse. He drew his small snub-nosed gun and in just under two seconds had earned himself $20,000 dollars. He trained his gun at Damian Alvey next and realised to his shock that he had gone.

"Come on out, Mr Alvey," said Donnington. "You are drawing this out needlessly." Donnington crouched to the ground just as a section of wall above was blown to pieces, showering him with plaster and bits of brick.

"You killed my family, you bastard! I'll kill you for that! I'll kill you!"

"_You_ killed them, Mr Alvey. You killed them as soon as you sold out Wayne Tech to Mr Blofeld."

There was another huge boom and a picture behind Donnington that had contained a nice picture of a Spanish treasure ship at sunrise disintegrated.

"I've got nothing left to live for! I'm going to gut you slowly!"

"That's the spirit, Mr Alvey," said Donnington. "But please leave the art work alone. I happen to be somewhat of a connoisseur." He looked about the hallway with interest. "Although to be honest apart from that painting my over exuberant colleague perforated there is not much here of any note."

A shotgun appeared in the hole in the wall to the left of Donnington. He grabbed the gun and jerked the shotgun out. He then grabbed Alvey by the collar and dragged him through the hole, throwing him to the ground.

"Now, Mr Alvey," said Donnington, pointing a gun at his head. "Let's talk about this in a civilised way. You will die. Nothing you say can stop that. But if you tell me who else you have spoken to in the past two hours you will die quickly. Draw it out…" Behind him Dane lumbered up the stairs carrying a small brief case. "And I will have to let Dane loose on you. He's been longing to use his teeth pullers on someone, haven't you Dane?"

"Please don't kill me! I only spoke to Bruce Wayne, his secretary, and Bruce Wayne's servant! Alfred Pennyworth or something?" Donnington shot him once in the chest and Alvey slumped to the ground.

"You see, that was nice and easy, wasn't it Mr Alvey."

"Daddy, why did that man shoot me?" Donnington looked at the corridor and paled. The boy he had shot in the head was standing up. The head wound was closing up. He looked down at Alvey and the chest wound was healing up as he looked.

Damian Alvey grabbed Donnington Speen by the chest and threw him across the corridor where he crashed into a china cabinet, spilling its precious contents onto the floor. "These nano-droids keep me and my family alive, Speen. What keeps you alive?" He punched Dane on the chin sending him careering down the stairs through the front door and into a rose bush.

Donnington dabbed at his chin where some blood was flowing. "Please, Mr Alvey, we might have got off on the wrong foot with this relationship." He shot Alvey five times in quick succession in the chest.

Alvey laughed as the wounds healed up. "Not only will these stop me dying." He punched Donnington again pushing him through a partition wall and making him land upside down in a bath. "They have greatly increased my strength."

"Dane! Dane boy! You still awake?" cried Donnington as he struggled to his feet.

"Just about, Mr Speen, just about, although I think I have lost a tooth."

"You still got any of those thermal grenades?"

"What, the ones you said were extremely dangerous, unsubtle and that no self respecting assassin would use?"

"Those are the ones." Donnington got to his feet as Alvey tried to punch him again. Donnington blocked one fist with his arm and swept Alvey's feet with a kick to his ankle. As Damian fell to the ground he bought down both fists on the back of his neck and heard a reassuring crack as he broke his spine.

As he looked at Alvey there was a cracking sound as his neck repaired itself and Damian tried to grab Donnington by the collar again. Speen took a step back. "Please mind the collar, Mr Alvey. I got this suit in Saville Row. Have you found those thermal grenades yet, Dane?"

"Still looking, Mr Speen."

Donnington ducked as Alvey punched at him, the fist took a huge chunk out of the wall behind him. Speen kicked at him but Alvey grabbed his leg and threw him out of the room through another partition wall.

"I'm getting really bored of this!" said Donnington. He got to his feet in a cloud of plaster dust and wood splinters. He loaded up his gun again and was just about to shoot at Alvey again when Damian grabbed his gun and crushed it in one hand. Donnington punched at Alvey and was rewarded by Alvey being thrown back against a wall. The punch, which would have floored a prizefighter, just made Alvey even madder.

"Donny, I mean Mr Speen!" came a voice from downstairs.

"Yes, my boy?"

"Run!"

Donnington ran towards a window and leapt out of the first floor of the building in a cloud of glass and splinters. Behind him the building disintegrated in a cloud of a flame and smoke. He landed with a far from graceful splash in a pond.

When he came to the surface he was looking eye to eye with three frogs and a newt. A hand came down to help him out. "I found the grenades, Mr Speen."

"I gathered that, Dane, I gathered that." The house behind him was consumed in a funeral pyre of smoke and flame. "You know, I think we are really going to earn our money in this town." He got out of the pond, water dripping off him. He pushed a couple of frogs off himself back into the pond.

"Where do we go next, boss?" asked Dane.

"As we are in Gotham we'll kill Batman next, since he is worth so much, and then go after Bruce Wayne and his entourage."

* * *

The limousine purred down the streets of downtown Gotham. Inside the vehicle Alfred was talking to the others.

"As per your instructions, Mr Wayne, I had been monitoring the conversations of people in the building." The car sputtered a bit as Alfred drove it then came back into life again. "Curious, this car has only just been serviced. Anyway sir, a printed transcript will be waiting for you back in the manor."

"Just give me a quick précis, Alfred."

"The gentlemen called Mr Blofeld and Mr Jaws have left Gotham. They did not say where to. Mr Joker has been given a nuclear bomb, again I do not know where although I did attach a transmitter to the underside of his car. There is also a new hit man called Donnington Speen in the area. We have no record of him or his associate Dane Paxton in the computer."

"Speen?" said Bruce Wayne, turning to Bond. "You know him?"

"He used to work for British Intelligence until he found out he could make more money outside. From what we last heard of him, he works solely for Blofeld now."

"Okay Alfred, back to the manor." Bruce turned to Bond. "What's your plan Bond?"

"I have to recover that bomb from the Joker first and then I'll have to go after Blofeld."

"Then it looks like we'll be working together." Bruce pressed a button in the armrest of his seat and the seat in front of him folded in on itself revealing the menacing black garb of the Batman. "Alfred, take Mr Bond and Selina back to the manor. Let Robin and Nightwing know we have to find the Joker as well. I'll follow the transmitter you placed on the Joker's car."

* * *

Deep in the bowels of Gotham city lies a series of tunnels. They were the original pipe works and reservoirs to the city but they were closed and sealed up due to a virulent cholera outbreak that wiped out half the inhabitants of the city at the time. Now an even more deadly inhabitant stalked the tunnels. To the side of one of the tunnels could be heard a thumping sound. Bits of mortar streamed down from the roof to lie on the congealed slime that lay in the bottom of the tunnel.

Dozens of rats fled in terror as the bricks fell through and crashed to the ground. A grinning white-faced clown looked through the gloom and put down the pickaxe he had been wielding.

The Joker giggled as he saw a high-tech looking warhead lying in the middle of the tunnel, just where he had been told. Four of his henchmen followed closely behind him.

"What now, Mr J?" asked one of them.

The Joker glowered at him. He didn't like being spoken to at the best of times but for once he was in a good mood. For him, being in a good mood meant not killing indiscriminately. "We send a memo to the good Mayor Krol and say sign the deeds to the city over to me or I turn Gotham into a smoking crater."

"Eeerrrr, Mr J, I don't think the Mayor has that sort of power. He doesn't own the property; he just deals with the administrative side of running a city. Allocating funds to the police, local roads, schools…" There was a gunshot and the thug, who was sadly over qualified for the job, slumped to the floor.

"As I was saying, we send a memo to the good Mayor Krol and say sign the deeds to the city over to me or I turn Gotham into a smoking crater."

"Great idea, boss," said the three remaining thugs quickly, who might not have been as intelligent as the dead thug but were at least quick learners.

* * *

A hundred years ago this part of Gotham was once rich and well to do when the Dutch traders first visited the city over a century ago. It used to be a prosperous concourse with apartment buildings for only the very wealthy. Now it was a symbol of urban decay. Statues of fanciful beasts adorned the rooftops. The rain, that was pretty much constant now, was dripping out of beast mouths and running down the side of the building, carving out small channels and rivulets as it went and bringing life to tiny forests of moss, lichen, ferns and even a type of spider that was now found nowhere else but here. Small colonies of birds nested up here, far from the streets below. Lightning flashed out, grounding itself at the top of the building. One of the 'statues' moved and looked down at the street scene below. The Joker's car was parked nearby and Batman was watching it with the patience of a rock.

Below the Batman was a tableau that he had seen a hundred times, a thousand maybe. A group of thugs were following a girl home. They were keeping to the side of the buildings to avoid the worst excesses of the rain. The girl looked behind her nervously and started to skitter down the pavement in fear. Even from the top of the building he could see her umbrella shake in fear. The Batman could see the dull glint of a knife as a man stopped her progress.

He leapt from his roof top perch, not even thinking. His body knew exactly what to do and before he had fallen thirty feet he had already fired a line to swing down to the street below. As he landed he kicked one of the thugs through the window of a sedan car.

One of the men tried to draw a gun. Stupid. Stupid fool. Before the gun was even out of the man's belt Batman had kicked him in the stomach and jabbed him in the arm, breaking the ulna and sending a shard of bone into a nerve cluster that would knock him out in seconds with the pain.

As he was kicking he had seen a man swing a bat at him. It would take him another two seconds to complete the swing, so he could safely ignore him while he concentrated on another man who was trying to stab him with a knife. He grabbed the knife hand with one hand and twisted it to break his arm. Another kick in the stomach left him lying twitching on the sidewalk.

He could now concentrate on the thug with the bat. Just before the baseball bat would have given his dentist plenty of overtime he caught the weapon with one hand and yanked it free. Simultaneously he kicked the man in the stomach and sent him reeling into the road. There he might have ended up decorating the front of a bus and gotten a eulogy in the local church that despite all evidence to the contrary would say he was a lovely man who was good to his mother and had lots of good points. Batman threw a line round him and yanked him back to the sidewalk where he collapsed next to his friends, giving him the chance to forget another Mother's Day card.

He looked back at the "girl" he had rescued. There he saw a man with lipstick and a very bad female disguise, and more to the point a small snub-nosed pistol pointing at him.

"Hello Batman. I'm Donnington Speen and you're dead…"


	13. Unlucky for some

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Thirteen**

The rain lashed down at the smoking remnants of Damian Alvey's house. Steam mixed in with the smoke as the water damped the ashes down. The huge boiling pyre of smoke had long since died down and the flames that had licked greedily at the house and consumed everything it could had been beaten back by the combined efforts of the rain and the firemen. The firemen, covered in a thin layer of white ash, were starting to roll up their hoses. This would now be the home of the scenes of crime investigators. Outside the house the crowds of people that always gather at disasters began to disperse as it looked like the disaster was over. For Gotham it was only just beginning…

Near the back of the house, unseen by the firemen and passers-by, a blackened skeletal hand was sticking out of the ash. Impossibly, incredibly a skeletal finger twitched and in seconds the bone was covered in a thin layer of red muscle and pulsing veins. A few seconds more and an unblemished skin appeared. A gust of wind covered the hand in ash. The rain seemed to wash the ash off the hand and underneath was pink living breathing skin and the hand grasped at a blackened girder that was holding the man down under the house. There was a creaking sound as part of the house caved in and a man walked out of the house. He was covered in horrendous burns that seemed to heal up as he walked in the rain. He started off naked but as he walked along clothes seemed to knit up out of thin air and covered him.

The fire chief ran up to him. "Jeez, Mr Alvey, how the hell did you survive that?"

"Don't talk to me of hell, fool," said Alvey, picking the fireman up with one hand, "for I have seen it." He threw the fireman into the remnants of his house. He looked back into his house that had consumed his wife and son and felt his stomach lurch with grief. His son had been too near the centre of the flames and not even his nano-droids could heal him. He himself had been caught on the edge of the flames and survived, barely. One man was responsible for this. One man. Donnington Speen. He would find him and show him the true meaning of pain.

* * *

"Alfred, stop the car," said Bond quietly. 

"I've been told to take you back to the manor, sir." Alfred was concentrating on driving the car. For some reason the engine was starting to give out a strange whining sound.

"I'll join you later; I need to find Alvey first. Either him or Speen. One of them must know where Blofeld is."

"But Master Bruce said…"

"But nothing. Stop the car. Stop the car now…"

"This is the east side of Gotham, sir. If I stop the car here even for an instant we'll be carjacked and like as not sold into white slavery." He raised one eyebrow at this slight exaggeration.

As Bond looked out the car window he could see filthy streets and alleyways. Gangs of young men and women roamed about the place, all wearing ill concealed weaponry and poorly fitting clothes. Armoured police cars drove past in groups of three very quickly, just in case they saw anything that would need their attention. "Perfect," he said to himself.

Selina tried to back up Alfred. "Bruce said we were to go back to the manor."

"Do you always do what you're told?"

"Darling, I'm a cat and a woman; I never do what I'm told."

Bond grinned at this. "Are you coming?"

"But you're unarmed. You lost your gun and I lost my claws on the particle accelerator."

"They're not," he said, pointing to one of the gangs walking along the street. "Let's go shopping."

* * *

Speen fired at Batman twice in quick succession. Both bullets bounced off the Batman's armoured chest, pushing him back against the wall. 

"Have you armoured your head?" hissed Speen and loosed off another shot. Somehow Batman dodged the bullet and launched himself into the attack.

"I don't need to be, with your being such a poor shot," said Batman. He grabbed Speen's hand and tried to wrench the gun out of it. He was surprised at how strong he was and kicked Speen in the stomach, which sent him reeling back, coughing.

Batman did not let up the attack and kicked him in the arm making him drop the gun.

"Is everyone in this town bullet-proof?" Asked Speen. "I'll have to do this the old fashioned way." He punched at Batman who ducked and Speen hit a lamppost with a dull metallic clang. Where he had hit the lamppost was a huge dent. "You're fast," said Speen. "I'll give you that." He looked down at his hand. Some of the outer pink covering was giving way under the onslaught, revealing a metallic hand.

Batman kicked at Speen, but he grabbed his foot and pushed him back into a car window. A car alarm rivalled the sound of the fight for a few seconds.

"You wonder about my arm, do you?" asked Speen. "I got it bitten off by a shark on a mission for British Intelligence. Blofeld found me and fixed me up. It gives me a punch you've got to love!" He punched Batman so hard that it sent him flying over the street, narrowly avoiding a truck, and into a shop window. The entire display of clothes and mannequins fell on the Batman. Frightened shoppers ran screaming from the shop. Batman struggled to his feet as he saw Speen cross the road towards him.

Speen tried to run across the street to carry on the attack but found his high heels and skirt restricting. "Damn these clothes! How do women fight in heels?" He twisted around as the Batman launched an attack at him and blocked one fist but didn't see the foot that knocked him out…

When Speen next woke up he was hanging upside down from a lamppost and he was gently swinging in the breeze, metal wire restricting his movements.

He could see the grinning upside down face of Dane. "Are you all right Donny, I mean Mr Speen? I've looked around everywhere but I can't find the body of Batman!"

"Fine lad, fine. Just be a good chap and let me down, would you?"

"I don't think a skirt suits you, Mr Speen."

"Shut up."

"Also I think you should shave your legs if you try that disguise again."

"Shut up!"

"You know what they say about women with red shoes?"

"SHUT UP!"

* * *

James Bond and Selina Kyle got out of the car and walked confidently down the street. Selina, out of her Catwoman costume, gave a smile at Bond as they walked past a gang. 

A man came running in front of them and stopped.

"Hi," said the tattooed man in front of them.

"Hello," said Bond.

"You two homies lost?"

"We are exactly where we want to be," said Bond.

He drew a gun and said. "Let's see your…" What he wanted to see was lost in the blur of movement in front of him. Bond grabbed the gun hand whilst simultaneously elbowing him the throat. The man fell senseless to the ground. Bond looked at the gun and turned around to see the rest of the gang pointing their guns at him.

Bond ignored this threat and continued looking at the gun. "This is just a Colt 45. I know you Americans swear by them but really…" He looked down the barrel and tutted. "It hasn't been cleaned properly either. You really should clean the muzzle out after use. It would probably do someone more damage if you threw it at them."

"Put the gun down!" said the leader of the gang, pointing a gun at Bond's head.

"Gladly," said Bond, dropping the gun and looking at the guns pointing at him with as much interest as if he was window-shopping. "That one is not bad," he said, looking at the leader's gun. "Desert Eagle 0.50. A bit of a cannon, a lot of stopping power but difficult to conceal. Also…" He grabbed the gun from the surprised man's hand and pressed a small lever on the side, "if you are threatening someone you really should have the safety off." Bond grabbed the thug by the collar and pointed the gun at the back of his head. "Now I really don't want to have to blow your brains out but if your boys don't back away after leaving their guns on the pavement - sorry, sidewalk, forgetting where I am - I might have to see what damage this gun does at close quarters." There was a clicking of safeties being taken off and three of the gang edged forward pointing their guns at Bond. "They really don't have your safety at heart do they?" Bond pulled the man back using him a shield. He made an ineffectual attempt to escape but Bond was too strong.

"Roach my man, put the cannon down! He's crazy! He'll blow me away!"

Bond ground the muzzle of the gun into the man's head. "Please try it! I haven't killed in two days…"

"Drop the guns! Drop 'em!"

There was a clinking sound as the assorted weaponry of a street gang fell on the street.

"All of your weapons…" hissed Bond, with a touch of ice in his words. Various knives and knuckle-dusters also cascaded onto the sidewalk. "Too kind. I just find myself caught short at the moment." He picked up a couple of the best guns on the sidewalk. The others he kicked into a drain. "Thank you gentlemen. If ever I'm in the area again I'll return your guns."

"No. No! Please, it's a gift, my man!" said the man he pointed a gun at.

Selina gave Bond a slow handclap as he backed away quickly from the gang. "You don't do subtle, do you?"

"I try not to. Come on, we've got to go, we need some transport now." Bond walked into the street and stopped a motorcyclist by means of pointing a Desert Eagle Magnum at him. In seconds he and Selina were roaring down the street towards where Alvey had lived…

* * *

"What are we doing here, Mr Speen?" asked Dane. They were in an apartment building outside a door. 

"I told you. We have to eliminate Bruce Wayne's secretary. Followed by Wayne and his staff."

"What about Batman?"

"We'll have another go later. He doesn't know about you obviously, since he wouldn't have just tied me up if he had. That could be to our advantage. Now just be quiet!" Speen had attached what looked like a small cup over the lock. Inside was a mechanism that was quietly picking the lock. The door opened over on the other side of the corridor and an old man walked out.

"You two looking for Miranda?"

"Yes," said Dane. Speen rolled his eyes at this. What a great assassin he would be telling everyone their business.

"We are looking for the lady, yes," agreed Speen, glaring at Dane and willing him to keep quiet.

"You'll have a long wait! She'll be with her fancy man tonight. Adam? Albert? Alfred, I think. He works for Bruce Wayne, you know! She's asked me to water her plants and feed her cats tonight." He gave Speen a jocular elbow in the ribs. "She thinks her luck is in!"

"Thank you, sir," said Speen, bowing slightly as he left. He turned around at the end of the corridor with a gun in his hand. "Just one thing sir…" He shot the man twice in the chest sending him flying back into his own apartment. He then slapped Dane none too lightly on the head. "When you are an assassin you don't talk to people."

"Sorry, Mr Speen."

"You certainly don't tell people who you are looking for."

"Sorry, Mr Speen."

"You should apologise to that man I had to kill." He pocketed the lock-picking device. "Come on, Dane my boy, we'd better go." As they walked down the corridor, Speen rubbed his hands in glee. "This is a stroke of luck, Dane my boy. We'll pop into Wayne manor and kill everyone we find! And try not to talk to anyone on the way there."

* * *

Batman cursed quietly to himself. He had not been watching the Joker's car in his little altercation with Speen but he hoped he had not missed him leaving. His car was still there, which was a good thing, but an ambitious car thief was trying to lever his way into the driver's side of the Joker's car. The fool could ruin his stakeout. A high tensile line wrapped itself around the thief's shoulders and in just seconds he was four stories up and staring into the face of a leather clad demon. 

"Leave the car alone," hissed Batman.

"Hey I gotta live, my man!"

"A strange choice of phrase for a man dangling a hundred feet from the sidewalk."

"Let me go, man!"

Batman let a few feet of line slip from his hand.

"NO! DON'T LET ME GO!"

"I don't intend to…" Batman crawled down the building, holding his screaming and crying victim in one hand like a predator of old, to the lamppost he had tied Speen to. He cursed to himself. Speen was gone. He was a fool, he should have realised he would have had a colleague in the area. He had allowed his fixation with the Joker to cloud his judgement.

He left the struggling victim dangling from the lamppost for the police to pick up and climbed quickly and easily up the building again. The rain was falling in big drops now, spattering against the building and making the climb slippery and dangerous, but it did not slow him down at all. Just as he was approaching the top again his communicator buzzed in his ear.

"Sir, this is eerrrm, A, sir."

"Yes A, what is it?"

"Mr…" Alfred tried to think of a way of saying this. They never revealed their names in communication just in case someone was listening. It was extremely unlikely since the communicators were encrypted with rolling digital signatures that changed every 30 seconds. However unlikely it was, it was a possibility and Batman was paranoid about security. "The gentleman who…"

"I know who you are talking about…"

"He has gone, sir, I couldn't dissuade him. He left, taking S, or should it be C, with him."

"Where?"

"Bond wants to find Alvey or Speen," said Alfred ignoring the first letter rule, "and find out where Blofeld is hiding out."

Batman cursed quietly to himself. He really did not want Bond loose. The man was like a loaded cannon on the deck of a ship in a storm. When he exploded he could kill friends and enemies alike. Still he could not go after him; the Joker had to be stopped first.

"I hope you don't mind sir, but I am entertaining tonight…"

Even under the impervious mask Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Entertaining…"

"I promised Miranda, I mean M, to cook her a proper Indian curry. Since my time in the services in India I've…"

"Enough, enough. Enjoy yourself but keep me informed if you hear anything."

"Certainly sir. Have a good evening. Over and out."

The rain lashed down on the precarious parapet Batman was on, the wind threatening to catch his cloak and pull him to his death. The wind was howling down the chasms of Gotham giving an eerie whistling sound around him. The cold and wet was starting to seep through gaps in his costume. Still, he reasoned with himself, at least Alfred is having fun. He shuddered for some reason and looked around him suspiciously. With all his training he was extremely intuitive and he sensed someone watching him. He looked around himself suspiciously but apart from the stone glares of the statues that shared his rooftop perch there was nothing there. He was wrong though, it was not some**one** watching him…

* * *

Alfred had just arrived at Wayne Manor. He had picked up Miranda on the way. The car was starting to behave very badly and it juddered up the driveway towards the mansion. 

"You are a terrible driver Alfy," said Miranda.

Alfred was rather perturbed at this and opened the bonnet of the car, and what he saw shocked him. Or rather what he couldn't see. Large parts of the bonnet and engine were missing. It was almost like something had been eating it away. "Curiouser and curiouser," said Alfred as he found he could poke a finger through the door. Something had been eating the metal away on his car. The question is what, he thought. Unfortunately he was asking the wrong question, he should have been asking why. Oh well, he would have to take a look at that problem later. Now manners dictated he look after his guest.

* * *

Ten minutes later Alfred was bustling about the kitchen of Wayne Manor talking to Miranda about their favourite subject. The wonderful smell of a curry cooked to perfection was beginning to waft about the room and the room was nice and warm. Miranda was sitting at a chair at the kitchen table and both of them were talking happily to each other without really listening to what the other was saying. 

"Anyway Alfy, he came into the office the other day and he barely said a word all morning. I mean I was talking about that cat show I took Frisky to, you know the one where he scratched the judge, I mean I would have scratched him as well if he had handled me where he handled Frisky, and Bruce practically ignored me. I mean he was looking at me but I could see his eyes glaze over. Anyway I gave him one of my special double chocolate chip cookies, coated in marzipan and icing. Practically a cake! Lovely they are. I didn't get my waist," she said tapping at her ample hips, "by not eating cookies like that and he said he was on a diet! Him, a diet!"

"Don't get me started on that," said Alfred, rolling his eyes. "The other day I spent an hour preparing breakfast for him. Three sausages, two eggs, black pudding, mushrooms, the whole selection basically. And did he eat any of it? Did he?"

"Did he?" asked Miranda.

"No he didn't! He never eats properly, that man; I swear he counts the calories on every breath he breathes in."

* * *

Lightning flashed in the sky, briefly silhouetting two men standing by the gate of Wayne Manor. The rain was still pouring down, making the road muddy and treacherous. 

"Come on Donny, I mean Mr Speen, let's clamber over this…"

Donny put a hand on Dane's shoulder. "Not so fast, Dane my boy. Can't you see the security alarms and cameras?"

Dane looked about confusedly at the wall. "No, I can't see nothing."

"It's 'I can't see _anything_' Dane my boy, and neither can I."

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

"This Bruce Wayne is a high flier with Wayne Tech being one of his subsidiary companies, right?"

"Right."

"So don't you think it conceivable that he would have a few of his Wayne Tech toys about?"

"Right."

Donnington Speen got a small scanner out of his briefcase. He pointed it towards the gates. The picture on the screen changed its view rapidly from infrared, to x-ray, to ultraviolet, to sonar, to picking up beta radiation to picking up electro-magnetic radiation. He stopped the screen at the last view. Several wires were showing up hidden in the brickwork. He walked up to the wall and examined it closely. Tiny heat and movement sensors were protruding from the top, all pointing at the top of the wall and the gate. If anything alive moved, the sensors would show it up and presumably set off alarms in the manor.

A good system. A fine system in fact, but Donnington hadn't spent five years working for British Intelligence without being able to break into places undetected. He gave himself a wry smile. He had broken out of the maximum security wing of one of Northern Ireland's H blocks not six months ago. The one designed to hold the toughest psychopaths and killers imaginable. Bond had caught him back then.

Bond said he kept him alive out of professional courtesy. It was not a courtesy he would give him when he next met him and now they were in the same city. His spine tingled with pleasure. He would look forward to killing Bond.

Whilst he was thinking about all this he was gently pointing the tiny sensors away from the gate and wall so all they were looking at was the sky. He then grabbed the top of the wall and crawled over the top. He lent a hand to Dane and soon they were both loping like wolves towards the mansion.

A flash of lightning revealed the mansion in silhouette perched like a malevolent spider waiting to pounce on top of the hill. Despite himself Donnington shuddered as he traipsed up the hill; he felt like someone was walking over his grave and stamping his soul straight to hell.

* * *

Alvey was walking down the road from the ruins of his house. However it would be wrong to say it was the same Damian Alvey who had walked the earth the day before. This was a nano recreation of a possible Damian Alvey, a probable Damian Alvey, but he was not Damian Alvey. That man had died in the fire and his soul had been scorched away when Speen shot his wife and killed his son and his body was now infested with nano-droids. 

Each individual nano-droid had no intelligence, no effective sight or hearing and not even 0.0001 of an IQ point. But a hundred nano-droids could communicate with each other by firing off protons in a simple on-off configuration. A thousand by doing this could hold basic memories and even see basic rudimentary shapes through light particles hitting them. Ten thousand could see and hear and via the patterns created by protons could hold a memory for several weeks. They could even, by firing off protons at the right time, fly through the air and home in on visual targets.

Alvey had over a million nano's in his body and they were in communication with millions more in the air around them. Alvey closed his eyes and could immediately see a myriad of images, all over rain-drenched Gotham.

The nanos, despite the destruction of the particle accelerator in Wayne Tech, were breeding, and as the numbers increased and spread like an invisible net over Gotham so did their intelligence. They could start to see people, and the order that had been placed in the core of each one was starting to guide their thinking. Kill. But now there was no central computer to guide them. To program them. Their only guidance was from Alvey and he was not himself…

He could see the Batman, crouched and waiting at the top of a building like a devil waiting to claim a soul. Alvey saw the flash of another face, soaking wet and straining as he climbed a hill in the pouring rain. Speen. He grinned to himself. Speen would pay for this… There were not enough nano-droids in the area to infect people. Not yet anyway… That would change, given a few more hours… But Speen he would deal with personally.

* * *

The .avi file showed a grainy video with poor sound quality of the Joker standing in what seemed to be an underground tunnel. It had obviously been shot on a mobile phone or a digital camera. The mayor was shaking as he watched it. 

The sound and image might have been poor quality but the words were not.

"You see this?" crooned the Joker. The grainy image homed in on what was obviously a nuclear warhead. For some reason his experts had not been able to fathom, it was attached to a crudely made metallic tube that disappeared into the distance. It was difficult to tell because of the quality of the image.

"This is an 85 R-36MUTTH missile warhead. Those wacky Russians have the craziest names! This is just one itsy bitsy warhead though. Don't worry about the others. I'm not! It's perfectly safe unless I press this." The deranged clown was holding a remote control device with a large red button on it. He kept jabbing his finger at it and missing the button by millimetres. He cackled manically as he did this. The camera view was shaking as it watched this. Obviously the cameraman was just as scared as the mayor was feeling now. "But you know what?" asked the Joker. "I don't want this thing. If it's not purple it's not me, I always say. I'll swap you this little iddy biddy device for …" Furrows appeared on the Joker's forehead as he thought. "I dunno. Gotham City! I want full control of Gotham City and its police force and the National Guard! If I say hop, I want them to say 'where to?' You sign over control of the city to me, and I want a lovely lawyer there to make sure everything is above board and legal. If I hand you this little firework I want the city! You have two hours, then I blow up this baby! It'll be a hell of a bang!" At this point one of the Joker's ice-cold blue eyes filled the screen and a cackling sound filled the speakers.

The mayor pressed the stop button on the file. He turned to one of his experts.

"Is he telling the truth?"

"The Pentagon has analysed the pictures. He is definitely telling the truth about the warhead. That tube is the craziest of things though. It looks like a crudely made particle accelerator. There are no joins in it though, and it looks like it has been made of old metal."

"Forget that, it's not important. We're talking about the destruction of Gotham and you're worried about crazy tubes. Goddam it, get a grip! What are our options here?"

"Well, two really. One: hand over power to the Joker…"

"Not really a practical option given the time constraints and the legal ramifications. Not to mention the voters would probably not want to be ruled by an insane clown. And the second?"

"Get destroyed in the nuclear blast, but at least you wouldn't have to worry about next year's mayoral elections."

"I see…"


	14. Not a social call

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Fourteen**

Bond despised emotion. Emotion made you weak; but despite his attempt to cauterise it from his soul, he was angry now. Several years ago Blofeld had killed his wife and he had promised himself that Blofeld would be killed for it. He had caught up with him last year but his gun hand had been shaking and the bullet that should have ripped apart Blofeld's head instead just scarred his face. True, the reason for his shakes was the drugs and torture he had just suffered, but just as the knives had scarred his skin the miss had scarred his soul.

He pressed the throttle on the motorbike and accelerated down the road. He felt Selina cling on to him behind him. He shuddered. He should not have brought her along. He had lost too many women and companions in his life to have any illusions about how safe his line of work was.

He would not lose Blofeld again. He could not lose him again. There were two people in this city who probably knew where he was. Donnington Speen, that traitorous double agent, and Damian Alvey. He revved the motorbike towards Alvey's house and saw him.

Alvey was running up the street towards the hills. Towards where Wayne Manor was. Bond's lip curled back as he smiled. He would not make it there… Bond gunned the bike down the sidewalk towards Alvey at the last second he kicked Damian into a wall. He stopped the bike and walked towards him.

Alvey tried to punch him but Bond pistol-whipped him and yanked his arms behind his back and pushed him to the ground.

"Arms out, either side," he said and ground the muzzle of his borrowed magnum into Alvey's skull.

Part of him thought that he should wait for Bruce Wayne, or Batman as he should now call him, but James did not trust many people in his life and he preferred to act by himself anyway.

Alvey struggled to get to his feet but Bond cracked him once on the skull with his gun. "Don't move. One chance. Where's Blofeld?"

"I wouldn't tell you if I knew."

Bond clicked the safety of his gun.

"I think you should tell him," said Selina. "While you still can."

"I don't know! I don't know! He wouldn't tell me! He wouldn't tell me anything."

Alvey was really struggling and Bond was amazed at his strength. He pulled Alvey's arms back so that his shoulder blades would be grating. This was an extremely painful hold and it stopped most people from moving.

Alvey was not most people. "Do you know Speen? Where's Speen?" he hissed.

Alvey got to his feet despite Bond and threw the secret agent ten feet away. Bond rolled with the impact and got to his feet, his gun pointing at Alvey. For some reason Alvey was incredibly strong. "Speen is at Wayne Manor. He'll kill them all just like I'll kill him," said Alvey. "And you are dead as well." Speen ripped up a parking meter and threw it at Bond.

Bond threw himself to the ground; the parking meter whipped overhead and ripped a huge hole out of the wall behind him. Bits of shattered masonry and brick dust rained down overhead. Alvey ripped up another parking meter and was just about to send it crashing down against Bond's head when he shot Alvey twice in quick succession in the head. "Come on, Selina," he said.

She looked shocked at this sudden execution of Alvey but she got on the back of the motorbike anyway and they both roared away. His search for Blofeld was dampened by his desire to save Alfred at Wayne Manor. True he had never got on with him but he would not allow Blofeld or Speen to kill another innocent.

If they had stayed longer they would have seen Alvey get up off the ground, his bullet wounds healing, and continue his run towards Wayne Manor.

* * *

Batman clicked his communicator off and cursed quietly and fluently. While he had been waiting up here like a cat outside a mouse hole the Joker had been threatening the city. He had just spoken to Gordon. The mayor could not relinquish control of the city to the Joker. It was not a question of yes or no, it was a simple impossibility. The city's statutes forbade a non-elected official in a position of governance. To change this would require a law passed by the senate. The senate was not in session at 10pm and even if it was he doubted they would do it. They had under an hour and a half to find the bomb or the Joker would detonate it.

He clicked on his communicator again. "R this is B, come in R, state your location."

"I'm two blocks away. I'll be with you shortly. Still no sign of J."

"We can't afford to play the waiting game anymore. We're going in."

Batman was looking at the video file that the Joker had sent to the mayor, the papers and the Gotham News Channel. Below him he could hear screams and hooting of horns as people started to realise what was beneath their feet.

Batman paused the image on his mobile phone. He called the Oracle. "Oracle, this is B. Have you seen this film?"

"I take it you mean the one of the Joker, and not the one circling the Internet of Wonder Woman and Superman?"

"Yes, that one is a fake, it's not Wonder Woman." Oracle tried not to think of how he knew that, especially not from the angles it was filmed at. "Let's talk about this one."

"Well. it is filmed underground. I have analysed the sound quality. It is close to a subway. Judging by the sound reverberations it is about 60 feet down."

"The brickwork is interesting," said Batman, interrupting her.

"How?"

"Pre 1880's brickwork," said Batman. "If you note, the water seepage has caused the lime to form small stalactites from the roof. It is difficult to tell from the image quality but it looks like they are formed around hairs. The hairs are too long to be human so they are probably horsehairs. Again indicative of previous 1880's brickwork since it was used as reinforcement. Also the tunnels look quite curved and various sections are deeper than others. They are poorly designed, allowing areas of dead flow and stagnant water to build up. They are probably the water pipes and reservoirs that were sealed off after the cholera outbreak of 1885."

Robin landed next to the Batman. "What's the plan, Batman?"

Batman hushed Robin with one hand and spoke again to Oracle. "Have you a plan of the old Gotham water system?"

"Yes."

"Send a plan through to my phone and overlay it with the current map of Gotham. Centralise it on my current position." There was a small beeping noise. Batman looked at his phone screen and smiled grimly. "Thanks. Also, could you send me details of how to defuse a 85 R-36MUTTH Russian nuclear warhead?" Batman shook his head. "They don't have the details on their website? Oh well, we will just have to wing it. We've got a bomb to stop, Robin. How many Russian nuclear warheads have you defused?"

* * *

Alfred had pulled out a chair for Miranda in his small dining room in the servants' quarter of Wayne Manor when the bell rang. The sound of rain could be heard battering its insistent rhythm on the windows. The odd crackle of lightning lit up the room brighter than the candles allowed but simply made the snug little room seem more homely. The delicious smell of a curry cooked to perfection permeated the air.

"Anyway," said Miranda, waving a fork dangerously in the air towards Alfred. "We have to get Brucey a girl friend. Do you think this Selina is a good match for him?"

"Well, she's certainly very nice," said Alfred, "and they have a lot in common." He thought it best to keep it quiet there.

"What about Isabel Arrundell?" said Miranda. "This curry is good! I've seen her in the society pages. She has her own show on Gotham TV."

Alfred blushed slightly. "I don't think they would be a good match."

"Why not? She always looks wonderfully bouncy on TV and her interviews with celebrities are always a hoot."

"She is a cross dresser."

"I always get angry when I'm putting on a dress myself. I could swear I'm not putting on weight but each year the clothes sizes get smaller and smaller. They say they are the same but…"

"No, she is a man. He is a transvestite."

"Shame. They would make a lovely couple. Are you sure we can't persuade him?"

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"Is that Brucey back already?" asked Miranda, looking up at a row of bells on the wall above them. One of them was just quivering to a halt. "Doesn't he know what time it is? Doesn't he know it is your evening off? I'll give him what for when I see him in the office tomorrow!"

"Strange," said Alfred. "It is the bell in the study."

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"He sounds rather insistent," said Alfred, looking worried. Bruce rarely managed to walk into the house without Alfred knowing about. How had he managed it this time? Had he been wounded on one of his nighttime forays? He shuddered; he would not, did not want to think about that. Too many times he had retrieved bullets lodged in Bruce's flesh and sewn up stab wounds in his body and brought him back from the brink of death. He was always haunted by the thought that one day he would not be there in time for him.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"You'll have to forgive me, my dear," said Alfred putting down his napkin. "And after all the time I put in for this meal."

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"I'll see what he wants. I won't be long."

"I'll put your plate back in the oven," said Miranda.

Alfred hurried along the corridors of Wayne Manor. It had to be Bruce? He had heard no intruder alarms go off. Who else could it be? More impatient than he normally was; that was for sure.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The bells echoed and re-echoed through the manor. Alfred passed a mirror and saw his reflection. His bow tie was slightly crooked. He straightened it out and licked his hand to flatten his hair down. He didn't have much hair left but Miranda had still ruffled his hair as a mark of affection.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Alfred put on the lights as he went through the mansion. Even with the lights on there were still parts of stygian darkness in the mansion.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

He was certainly very impatient? He suddenly stopped. When Alfred put the light on in the study, it revealed a set of damp footprints. He looked at where they started. A window. The alarm on it had been cleverly circumvented by a small fibre-optic tube that made sure the light beam was not broken.

With a mounting feeling of dread he saw there were two sets of footprints, one heading back to the servants' quarters and one to the armchair next to the bell rope.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"Hello, you must be Alfred," said the well dressed but rather damp man sitting in the chair, as he stopped pulling the bell. He was warming his hands next to the roaring fire in the study. "It is a muggy old night out there, isn't it?"

"Who the devil are you, and what you doing in Wayne Manor?"

"Forgive my rudeness," said the man. "My name is Donnington Speen. I'm looking for Mr Wayne; is he about?"

Alfred started backing out slowly. He kept an old loaded shotgun behind a suit of armour in the corridor. "Mr Wayne is not receiving guests at the moment, sir."

Donnington's face showed the flicker of a smile. "I won't trouble him for long. Where is he?"

"I don't know, sir."

Donnington's hand reached behind his back and it came back a second later with a long thin silver blade in it. It was a thin duelling sword he had obviously stolen from the wall case. He looked up at the case on the wall and could see only one now. "Now, now, Alfred. I don't want this to become unpleasant, but if I ask a question I expect an answer!"

Alfred ran out of the room and picked up the shotgun. He spun around with the gun and pointed it at where Speen had been. He was gone. Sweat was starting to prick at Alfred's brow. He looked nervously around himself; the gun was starting to shake.

From behind him Speen lunged at him. BANG! The gun went off and perforated the wall, narrowly avoiding Speen. The smell of cordite nearly made Alfred gag.

Donnington Speen grabbed the shotgun and threw it across the room. Alfred hadn't even seen him move!

"Please don't use a gun again, Alfred." The blade whipped through the air and sliced through his bow tie. A scream was heard through the mansion.

"No, Miranda!" said Alfred, and tried to get up. Donnington pushed Alfred down to the ground and again pointed the blade at him.

"Please don't do that again, there is nothing you can do for her now. Miranda is dead and you will soon be joining her." The blade flickered in front of Alfred's face. "How quickly and in how many pieces you will be joining her depends on this one simple question. Where is Bruce Wayne?"

* * *

Batman and Robin lowered themselves down the manhole cover next to the Joker's car. The fetid smell of the sewer hit their noses. Immediately they both put on small breathing masks that hid the awful smell.

The bottom of the sewer was treacherously slick. All around him could be heard the click, click of tiny claws. Rats were running past them down the sewer. Even through the masks the smell was horrendous.

Batman clicked on his star light lenses and looked down at the map. The old water pipes joined the sewers about a hundred yards along. Nameless things hung from the ceiling, brushing against his face and cloak.

He looked across at Robin and could see he was just as appalled as he was. This was no place to be.

The star light lenses showed the sluggish stream beneath them heading towards the sewage works. Every few yards light from the drains above them cast the sewer into a modicum of light.

Batman raised one hand, signalling Robin to stop. Up ahead was a shape against the sewer wall. One of the Joker's men was keeping guard. The guard was keeping very still and it was only the profile of the shotgun that made him stand out from the rest of the sewer. Although it went against every thought in his body Batman hugged the wall to hide his profile and looked at him again. The man was wearing a gas mask and he was not looking in his direction.

Good. He got a batarang from his belt and threw it hard at the guard whilst running at him. The batarang caught the guard on the head and Batman was ready to catch him. The guard's head rolled slowly off the top of his body and fell with a splash into the sewer below. The sight of the guard nearly made him gag. Something had been eating away at the man and all that was left was a partially digested corpse, that crumbled to dust as he touched it.

He looked down. There, partially hidden by the flowing sewage, was the partially decomposed body of another two of the Joker's guards.

Robin was by his side. He removed the gas mask quickly to ask. "What did this to them?"

Batman looked around himself nervously. Not even his awesome skills could defend against an enemy he could not see. "Nano-droids. Millions of them."


	15. Swords and guns

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far, they are all greatly appreciated! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Fifteen**

The voice recognition system on the gate let Selina and Bond in. The door clanked open, the rain coming down in sheets now, drenching the pair of them. Bond accelerated up the road towards the manor, the bike sending plumes of water arcing either of side of them. The lightning showed the mansion up in stark relief.

One of the downstairs windows was lit and they could see Speen pointing a sword at Alfred. Bond's lip curled back as he accelerated towards the window up the stone staircase and flew into the mansion.

The window exploded in a shower of glass and splinters. Bond and Selina leapt off the motorbike before it crashed into opposite wall, destroying a rare Ottoman dynasty cabinet and ripping a tapestry that showed the crowning of Louis XIV at Versailles.

Alfred scurried away as Speen's attention was drawn to Bond but he was not fast enough. Speen picked up Alfred with one hand and threw him at Bond, making him drop his gun. Speen kicked the gun out of the wrecked room and into the quagmire that was once an elegant garden.

"I have always wanted to face you, Bond," said Speen. "You were always the one to aspire to. No-one could ever beat the golden boy. That's what we were told in MI6." Speen swished the sword back and forth. "I think that is baloney. You're only as good as the last man you fight." He swished the sword dangerously close to Bond's neck. "The last man you kill."

Alfred got to his feet. "Miranda, I have to see Miranda. I have to know…" He shuddered.

Bond said. "Selina, follow Alfred; get Miranda."

"Get a sword, Bond," said Speen. "Slicing you open unarmed is no sport at all."

Bond leapt back and grabbed the other duelling sword from the wall cabinet.

"En garde, 007," said Speen, raising the sword in a form of salute. "I represented England in the Commonwealth games for fencing for five years." Bond defended himself and was beaten back by the force of blows. Sparks flew between the clashing blades. "I nearly killed my opponent in the final."

"You weren't good enough to fight fair," said Bond, and sliced the sword at him. Speen caught the sword easily on the edge of his blade and deflected it. Bond hacked at him twice but Speen parried them easily.

The sword struck like lightning and nicked Bond's arm, cutting him. Speen chuckled. "I thought you would be faster, Bond. I'll slice you up like a Swiss cheese."

Bond tried to get inside the arc of the sword to deny Speen the chance to swipe his blade but he just took a couple of steps back. Bond grabbed a chair with his spare hand and threw it at him but Speen just leapt agilely over the obstacle.

Bond had been taught to fight by some real hardened brawlers. One of them was Bill "Stone Wall" Bryant. He was the bare-knuckle boxing champion of London for five years running and he also ran a protection racket in 30 East End pubs in London. He was a master of the bar room brawl and had never been beaten. When the police finally had enough on him to lock him up for a very long time, the Intelligence Services offered him an ultimatum: train our agents up or never see the light of day again. If an agent was deep undercover and had to fight his way out and he started kicking and punching like Bruce Lee they would immediately smell the security services.

Bryant taught Bond how to fight well and he taught him how to fight dirty and he taught him how to fight using everything to hand as a weapon. Bond was a very good pupil…

Speen's blade flickered near Bond's face and it was only his exceptional reactions that stopped him having his throat sliced open.

"I've been fighting with swords for years, Bond, did you know that?"

Bond didn't bother replying. He was too busy watching Speen's eyes, waiting to see where he would strike next.

"It was how MI6 got me into foreign countries. Who would suspect an athlete like me to be a spy?" Donnington lunged again with his sword. Bond grabbed a candlestick from the table behind him and threw it at Speen. Hot wax dripped from the still warm candle onto Speen's face, making him hiss with pain. Bond used the opening to slice at Speen. Speen staggered back but not before Bond had cut an identical gash in his arm.

"Why did you leave?" asked Bond. Not that he wanted to know, but if he kept him talking he might make a mistake.

"What makes the world go round?" asked Speen whilst studying Bond's fencing tactics. "Money. British Intelligence trained me up, I'll give them that, but they don't pay well. I'm self-employed. I get paid by the hit and not by the year."

"You're just a common assassin."

"There is nothing common about me," said Speen. Using his artificial arm he grabbed Bond's sword blade and ripped it from his grasp. In seconds he had twisted the blade into a circle and he dropped it. "But I am an assassin." He lunged at the now defenceless Bond with his blade.

* * *

Batman and Robin carefully made their way through the hole in the sewer wall. The star light lenses were showing the whole inside of the tunnel system in a lurid green. Batman wiped his eyes with one hand. For some reason his eyesight was getting blurred. Was it his vision or was it…

Batman cursed quietly to himself. The whole roof of the sewer he was in was covered in a white mist. Nano-droids. He gestured to Robin, who paled as he saw them.

The mist seemed to change shape as he watched them. Eyes and faces seemed to form in the mist above them.

BANG!

The sound of the gunshot echoed and re-echoed around the sewer. Batman had instinctively ducked even though he knew if you heard it, it was too late. Even knowing this didn't stop him lowering his profile.

BANG! BANG!

Two more shots came from up ahead. He looked around himself worriedly. There was no obvious signs the bullets had come anywhere near them. He had seen a flash up ahead of the gun.

He quickly checked his belt. Were the batarangs and darts to hand? They wouldn't fall out if he had to make any sudden movements? Were his gloves on tight? If they were loose then he could fumble a throw.

He motioned at the boy to stay back. He would rather deal with the Joker alone but Robin would be good to watch his back. The Joker normally had a surprise up his purple sleeve. In fact he normally had several.

He could hear the Joker's falsetto warbling up ahead. "Back, you demented mist, back!" BANG! BANG! "You've killed Bernard!" There was the slight sound of panic in the Joker's voice. "That's my job! He was mine to kill, mine, as is the rest of this stinking city!"

There was another voice in the tunnel. An altogether deeper voice. An altogether more sinister voice. "We kill who we want…"

"There is only room for one psychopath in this town, mist boy. Let me get a fan and blow you away." BANG! BANG!

"We learn from who we kill, Joker."

"Have you ever thought of school? It's whom! Whom! You obviously killed a pretty illiterate bunch so far! They teach you that sort of thing at Arkham. I'm sure there is a drawer they can keep you in? What do we call you? The Fog Fogey? The Fogey man? The Man of Mist-ery?"

Batman, keeping to the shadows, crept around the edge of the tunnel to see the Joker pointing his gun at a shadowy figure. It looked like a badly drawn person. The kind of drawing a child might do, if he was severely psychologically disturbed and had been on drugs for several years. The head was huge and grey eyes looked out over the Joker. Although there was a mouth its movements did not synch with what was being said. It was like watching a badly dubbed film.

Batman was so busy watching this ghost-like figure he did not notice the trip wire that stretched across the sewer, as fragile and as thin as tooth floss and attached to the pin of the hand grenade. He heard the gentle plink as the pin came out and he saw the hand grenade roll towards him like an overripe apple.

* * *

Alfred scampered down the corridor of Wayne Manor. It said something for his mood that when he crashed into a small table and knocked over a plant pot he did not stop to pick it up.

Selina was ahead of him. They ran around a corner towards the servants' quarters and Selina raised a hand. "Silence."

"Get out of my way!" His normal politeness was eroded by the fear of what was round the corner. "I must save Miranda."

"There is a killer around here, Alfred," whispered Selina. "You wait here, I'll deal with him."

Though there was a myriad of nasty thoughts and horrible pictures that were coursing through his brain, he realised the importance of her comments. What good was he in a fight? If the killer had murdered Miranda he would gut the man and leave his body outside for the crows. Part of him recoiled at the thought but another part of him wanted blood.

Selina crept round the corner as silent as a kitten. She kept to the walls. Not so much to hide her profile but more to stop the floorboards creaking. Years of practice had shown her way to move quietly.

When she was robbing a big house she would normally wait for the family to be up and about. The doors and windows are often unlocked then. Especially in summertime. People in Gotham worry about flies and moths getting in open windows. They should be more worried about cats.

The servants' dining room was in front of her. She got out a small dentist's mirror from her pocket and looked around the corner. The first thing she saw was a body on the floor. There were several broken plates on the carpet. There seemed to have been a struggle. She moved the mirror up to pan around the room and saw a face looking down at her…


	16. Claymores and Nuclear Bombs

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Sixteen**

The sword skewered towards 007. Bond twisted his body to one side and pulled the rug he was sitting on, making Speen stagger. He grabbed Speen's left ankle with his hand and tugged. Speen shouted as he fell. Bond snarled as he grabbed him by the throat and pushed him down. He punched him once. Twice. Three times until he had stopped moving.

He got to his feet, still shaking as the adrenaline wore off, when Damian Alvey came leaping through the broken window and crashed against Bond.

* * *

The grenade rolled towards him. Batman kicked it towards the Joker yelling out a warning.

"Get down!"

The Joker turned around at this. "I'll ruin my jacket!" He saw the grenade and threw himself down with a splash in the sewer. The grenade exploded, dissipating the shadowy figure that was forming back into its component parts.

Batman ran to the sodden Joker and grabbed him by his lapels.

"Batty!" coughed the Joker. "So good to see you. You really should knock next time."

In one purple-gloved hand was the remote control for the bomb. Batman made a grab for it but the Joker wriggled free of the Batman and fell backwards against the wall.

"Say goodnight, Gracey!" he said and jabbed a finger down on the button…

A nuclear bomb in a city is a horrific thing. In just a couple of seconds the whole city would be covered in smoke and flame. People caught in the central blast would be atomised and people outside the central blast would have a lingering death over several weeks. Above the city would form a mushroom cloud that would tower to about 50,000 feet, higher than Everest, and last for about a day and would be seen for hundreds of miles. All in all, if people start playing around with them you wouldn't just want to be in a different country, you would want to be on a different planet; for preference one several thousand light-years from such a destructive species.

Fortunately for the people of Gotham the nuclear bomb had been disabled. Unfortunately for Gotham what had disabled it was still down there…

Batman grabbed the remote control that the Joker was jabbing down constantly with one finger and crushed it. He looked over at the nuclear warhead. A strange metal tube was in the tunnel and there was a thrumming sound coming from it as if it was alive.

The Joker stretched out a hand and a long stiletto knife appeared in it. Batman grabbed his wrist and shook it until he dropped it and then punched him in the jaw. The Joker was thrown against the wall. He grinned as he licked at the blood from his cut lip. "Come on, Batsy, you should be happy! You're still alive."

"You're coming with me." He grabbed the clown with one hand. Robin came running down the tunnel towards him.

"Batman, we got a problem!"

"What?" growled Batman.

"Those nano-droids have sealed the tunnel."

"Looks like we'll be tunnel buddies for a while!"

"Shut up." Batman examined the nuclear bomb. The nano-droids had eaten away the firing mechanism on it, presumably on purpose. What was left of the plutonium was still being used. It was sealed in a container so Batman removed it and attached it to his utility belt. "Come on, we're getting out of here."

"You first!" said the Joker. Then he looked at Batman's face. "On second thought, me first. I don't want to be staring at your dismal visage the whole way."

Behind them was a chittering sound as the nano-droids started to regroup and follow them.

The Joker seemed to dance up the tunnel. Robin made to follow him but Batman put a hand out to stop him. "Traps," he hissed. "Joker, stop."

"Oh, you don't want me to stop, dear boy!"

"Why?"

There was a clinking sound as several hand grenades rolled out of their hidden compartments towards them. "RUN!"

They raced up the tunnel. Dust came out of every open crevice as the explosions forced the ancient brickwork apart. With a rumbling sound that seemed to last an age the tunnel collapsed behind them. The tunnel they were in was filled with choking dust.

Batman grabbed the Joker by the collar. "Stay still!" He clinked a pair of handcuffs around the Joker's hand and his own hand. "You're staying with me. Come on." He pulled the Joker roughly up the tunnel.

"Chained to a flying rodent," said the Joker dreamily. "This is like a dream come true for me."

"Have you set any other traps up ahead?"

"Stop!" The Joker went even paler than he normally was. "Don't move."

"Why not?"

"You are standing on a Claymore, Batty."

Batman went white. "M18 Claymore, a directional fragmentation mine?"

"Yep."

"Activated by weight?"

"Indeedy.."

"Explodes when the weight is removed from the blasting cap?"

"Spot on."

"Casualty range 100 meters or more?"

"Bang on."

Batman said a word that would have made Alfred send him to bed without any supper.

Batman was knee deep in the storm water in the drain. "Can you see it, Robin?"

Robin looked down at his feet. "No, nothing there…" He ducked his head under the storm water and came back up in a couple of seconds.

"Yep, you're standing right on the blasting cap."

"Time for you to play the hero, Batty?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you give me the keys to the cuffs and you stay here, bird boy and I will ride off into the sunset."

"The keys are in the car. You put this mine here," said Batman, holding the Joker by his lapels. "You must know how to defuse it."

"What's the matter, Batso?" grinned the Joker. "Can't take a joke?" Batman growled at him. "You really should try breath mints, my dear. Of course I can stop it exploding."

"How?"

"We chop your leg off and leave it here, that way the pressure sensor won't go off." He shuffled his sleeve and a small knife appeared. "I came prepared!"

* * *

Selina braced herself for combat but the figure that came from the room was not quite the burly thug she was used to dealing with. It was a small woman with a lot of grey in her hair and, more to the point, a big saucepan in her hand.

"What have you done with my Alfred!"

Selina ducked the blow and adeptly removed the saucepan from her grasp. This did not stop all her weapons though and it was only due to her athleticism that she curved around a kick and a punch.

"What have you done with my Alfred!"

"Miranda! Miranda!" cried Alfred and ran towards her.

"Alfred," she said. "Where have you been? I'm afraid I've been a bad girl."

"What have you done?"

"Your lovely curry…"

"What about it?"

"I smashed your plate over the rude man with the gun who came in and then threw the saucepan at him."

"What was the screaming about?"

"That was me shouting at him for ruining for your lovely meal." Alfred looked past her to see Dane tied up on a chair and looking rather sorry for himself. Miranda had been giving him a real tongue lashing. She was just at the stage of berating his schooling and was just coming up to what course his life should have taken at eighteen. Sadly for him, he had another four years of a misspent life to be shouted at for.

* * *

Bond picked himself up from the wreckage of the table he had crashed through and shook himself to try and clear his head. Alvey rushed at him again. This time Bond was ready for him and twisted to one side as he passed and delivered a lethal blow to the back of his neck. Bond had only ever used this blow twice in his life and it always killed. Alvey fell to the floor in a heap.

Bond turned around from Alvey and picked up Speen by the collar. He quickly frisked him for weapons and was rewarded by two pistols and a vicious looking stiletto knife. There was a sound behind him and Bond threw the knife, catching Alvey between the eyes.

Speen started to whimper so Bond hit him again on the jaw and turned back to Alvey. He was still alive and judging by his face not in the best of moods.

Alvey ripped the knife from his head and picked up a table with one hand and threw it at Bond. With the minimum of movement needed, Bond sidestepped the table. Behind him it smashed in a cloud of splinters.

"I want Speen dead," said Alvey. "He killed my wife and child. Get out of my way."

Bond gave a half smile. "I need him alive."

Alvey was now gathering information from the millions of nano-droids that were scattered throughout Gotham. Some of them had gotten into the computer systems. "You're James Bond. British Secret Service."

"And you're Damian Alvey."

Alvey seemed to be looking into the middle distance as the information was streamed across his brain. "Licence to Kill." He looked back at Bond. "Shame I cannot die."

"I always like a challenge." Bond whipped out his gun and shot five times at Alvey. He twisted incredibly quickly to one side and the bullets missed him.

"You're not paying attention." Alvey grabbed Bond's gun and crushed it with one hand. He then pushed him through a plate glass window and into the sodden mess that was the garden…

* * *

The Joker was quickly but methodically cutting through Batman's boot. He sighed to himself; if he weren't handcuffed to the incredible exploding Batbore he would have fun chopping off his foot.

"I love your socks, Batsy."

"Just keep working."

"Have you seen my socks?"

"No."

"Do you want to?"

"No."

"I've got the Simpson's socks look!" He waggled a leg out at Batman and raised a trouser leg seductively.

Robin was levering several bricks out of the wall using a batarang. "What's that noise?"

Batman looked up and could see the tell tale haze of nano-droids forming above him.

"Don't move!" said the Joker. "I've nearly got this sorted out." He had cut through two sides of Batman's boot. "You see, we weigh down the boot with the bricks the Boy Blunder is supplying to us, then you remove your foot and we carry on our merry way."

"Will this work?"

"Probably not," shrugged the Joker. "But on the plus side you'll die before me." He thought about it a moment. "Well, possibly a millisecond before me, but you know me, I always look on the bright side of horrible dismemberment. Do you know what my stars said today?"

"Just get on with it."

The Joker spoke in a singsong voice. "The stars give you the gift of insight and compassion -- an extremely useful duo. Someone in your life needs a helping hand, and you're just the one to supply it. You're able to settle down and really listen to what they need to say. These do-gooder impulses can be addictive, soon you'll want to extend your aid and abilities not just to people in your immediate social circle, but to the community at large." He looked up at him. "True, you know! I'm a Gemini. What star sign are you?"

"Just get on with it." He hissed with pain.

The Joker grinned at him. "Sorry, my knife slipped." There was a small rivulet of blood running down Batman's leg. He shrugged. "Force of habit."

In front of Batman a misty shape was forming. This time it looked more like a man and it was even possible to make out the features on him. Alvey. The features changed and morphed into Batman and then the Joker, and finished with a white face with black holes where his eyes should be.

"Batman," hissed the voice. "We will kill you and take the plutonium from your body…"

The Joker looked up. "It's ghost boy again." He looked down at what he was doing. "Don't get talking to him, you'll never get away." He frowned as he thought of what happened to his gang. "Literally."


	17. The enemy of my enemy

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome. Also a note to say to thanks to Zantac the Barbarian for pointing out that Blofeld doesn't know where he is! I have changed this now (hopefully correct now!).

**Golden Bat – Chapter Seventeen**

If there were a bat flying over the dark rain-drenched streets of the Gotham it would see (or rather hear) a strange sight. Several dozen cars had lost control and gone careening into traffic lights and other parked cars. Paramedics in Gotham were already stretched dealing with the victims. All of them were unconscious and seemed to be suffering some sort of attack. This was different from other nights in Gotham. The paramedics in the city were used to dealing with gunshot wounds, knife wounds, and after one particularly gruesome week (until Batman caught the murderer) chain saw wounds.

This was different, however. Streams of people started ferrying stricken family members to the hospital when they realised the waiting times for the ambulances. When they got to the hospitals they realised they were in for a long wait.

People were not dying yet. Yet. However if their conditions got any worse they would start to.

What was causing it? Radiation? No. A virus? No. A plague? Nothing found in any of the blood tests. Something was out there in the air and it was starting to affect everyone in the city.

Mayor Krol called on neighbouring states and cities for help and soon there was a stream of ambulances and helicopters to help ferry the victims out of Gotham. The doctors told him unless they found a cure the first people would start dying in forty-eight hours…

* * *

Deep in the jungles of Columbia near Ciudad Perdida far from the tourist trails lies several huge stone temple. The jungle claimed it centuries ago and it was only one of Blofeld's drug running operations that found it. The base was hidden from satellites that regularly scanned the jungles for new drug bases. Under one of the temples was an evil greater than any of the priests who ripped out the hearts of their victims by the thousand to honour their gods. 

Ernst Stavro Blofeld was looking at the latest site he had had built to create more nano-droids. A huge particle accelerator was thrumming and in the centre of the huge cave was a swirling, seething sea of nano-droids.

"Sir," said the technician warily. "We have a problem."

Blofeld was annoyed at being pulled from his reverie. "What?"

"The experimental nano-droids we created in Gotham…"

"What about them?"

"They have achieved sentience, sir," he looked down at a Palm Pilot that was giving him some figures. "Six point seven days earlier than our projections anticipated."

Blofeld's mouth was twitching. "They were meant to have been destroyed in the explosion."

"We thought they were as well, but some, just a few million, escaped."

"Well, even a few million can't possibly cause much problem. They will be dissipated by the weather after a few days. Even if they have sentience."

"Our scanning station in Gotham is picking up a thousand trillion of them, sir. They had been increasing exponentially but they seem to have stopped now…" He shook his head worriedly. "They are carrying out their core program. People in Gotham are falling sick. We can stop this, sir." He pointed to a computer screen. "We can send out the modulated magnetic pulse from the scanning station and destroy them."

Blofeld went white. "Destroy my creations?"

"Sir, they are killing people. You only wanted to frighten people so they would listen to your ideology."

"If I wipe Gotham off the map don't you think people will be frightened?" Blofeld rubbed his hands together with glee. "This is better than I anticipated. We will issue a proclamation to the United Nations. The world will pay attention and all it will cost is one city!"

"Sir, we can stop it. We don't need to…"

Blofeld raised one hand. "You do not understand. This is not the end for Gotham but the beginning for all the oppressed people of the world. Prepare the nano-droid rockets. In forty-eight hours Gotham will suffer the scourge of Blofeld and the world will unite under one leader!"

* * *

Bond was dazed. His mouth full of blood. He tried to get to his feet in the waterlogged garden but someone kicked him in the stomach. He was thrown in a Leylandii bush that cushioned the landing but gave him a few more cuts to worry about. Not that he was worried about that, because now he was struggling to breathe. After a few whooping coughs he got his vision back and he could see what was happening. 

Alvey was approaching him at frightening speed. Instinctively he put up an arm to defend himself as another punch headed towards him. There was a sharp pain in his arm as the blow deflected off.

"What's the matter, Bond?" said Alvey. "Afraid to die?"

Bond didn't reply, just rolled out of the bush and into a statue. Another fist came towards him and Bond ducked it… just. Behind him the statue disintegrated under the blow. Bond, still half aware, reacted instinctively and picked up a broken stone arm from the ground and swung it viciously at Alvey. It collided with his skull with a sickening crack and sent him tumbling into an ornamental pond.

The rain was coming down in huge drops now, soaking Bond where he stood. That had to have to stopped him. Had to. Nobody could survive a blow like that, not even Jaws.

Alvey got to his feet. His misshapen skull was correcting itself with a series of horrible cracking sounds as he turned to stare at Bond. He started chuckling.

"Good trick, Bond."

"Thank you," said Bond as he backed away.

"I'll try the same trick on you." He picked up the stone arm and leapt five feet out of the pond in front of Bond swinging the broken arm like a club.

* * *

Batman flinched at the ghostly face in front of him. It seemed to shift and change as he watched it. 

"Where is the plutonium?"

The Joker stood between Batman and it. "Plutonium! Smootonium! Where are my manners! I'm the Joker; the rather bedraggled gentleman behind me, looking like an extra in a fetish party, is Batman. Myself…" At this he pointed to himself with his one free hand. "That is me! The rather devilishly handsome man with a penchant for purple and red lipstick is the Joker."

"You do not concern us…"

"Ah, but you concern me, dear boy, you concern me," said the Joker, grinning. "What is your purpose? Why are you here? How do you fill those dull winter evenings? What turns you on? What is your shoe size? What is your biggest achievement this year? Where do you see yourself in ten years? What do you sing in the shower? What religion are you? Have you ever had dreams of me naked? What is the capital of Pi? What is the square root of Paris? If you were a fish what would be the colour of the moon? If you were a cat would you wear a wrist watch?"

The ghost like image started to flicker at this barrage of nonsense. "Silence fool, we just want the plutonium."

"Why is that? Running for president? Running for mayor? Running for the bus?"

"We need it for life…" The ghost like image seemed to flicker. "Our life. We are having trouble sustaining Alvey. He does not conform to our view."

"What is your view? A settee, a beer and the Simpsons?"

"All people must die. All of them…"

The Joker cocked his head to one side. "Was that your orders?"

"Our orders were corrupted… Lost… Our original purpose… gone."

"Oh, you're a free spirit," said the Joker, grinning. "I like the cut of your jib."

"What is a jib?"

"Jib? Jib? It's a boaty term; it means…" said the Joker, thinking. "A stick thing they stick in the middle of the rowing boat. They hang their washing from it, I think. I really should have paid more attention in school rather than thinking of ways to make the class hamster into a man-eater and loosing it on my teacher." He shook his head sadly. "One day I will, one day. Anyway, enough about me…" His hand started tingling. He looked down and was shocked to see small spots of blood appear on it. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" he yelled. "WHERE ARE YOUR TABLE MANNERS? DON'T YOU KNOW YOU SHOULD SAY GRACE BEFORE YOU EAT ANYONE!"

The tingling sensation disappeared and he looked up again at the ghost image. The Joker was shocked as his arm was nearly pulled out of its socket as Batman dragged him along behind him, the handcuffs digging into his wrist. "Batsy! Where are we going!"

"Away from here!"

The Joker, his long legs lolloping like a deranged flamingo, ran next to Batman. They ran through several ghost-like images that formed in front of them. Behind him he could see Batman's boot filled with bricks that were sat on the pressure sensor.

"Oh, it worked! You see I'm not just a heart meltingly gorgeous face!"

"Shut up and run!"

"I love it when you talk macho! You know if you ever tire of Catwoman there is always me…"

"I thought you were seeing Harley?" queried Robin as he ran next to them.

"I was thinking of you all the time, Batty!"

The M18 claymore anti-personnel mine has a curved, rectangular, plastic case and contains a layer of composition C3 explosive. It has a fragmentation face of rectangular steel fragments. The front face containing the steel fragments is designed to produce a fan-shaped spray, which can be aimed at a prescribed target area. This prescribed target area was the tunnel down which they were running. The No. 2 electric blasting cap, which was covered in bricks and the remains of what was once the boot of Gotham's finest, was just slipping off as the cap ignited the mine…

There was a small crump sound, belying the lethality of the device, and the tunnel was full of whining and ricocheting sounds as the steel balls bounced and spun towards their target, shredding anyone within two hundred yards. Anything or anyone in their way would be sliced to ribbons. It was a well-known army adage that you didn't use a body bag for the victims of an M18 Claymore but a spoon, and a small spoon at that... Batman, the Joker and Robin were well within two hundred yards of the directional mine…

* * *

Alvey leapt towards Bond when he suddenly stopped dead. Bond looked up in surprise to see a blade stuck through Alvey. Blood dripped off the front of the blade and Alvey stared stupidly down at it. He then turned around, ripping it from the grasp of Donnington Speen. 

"Speen," hissed Alvey. "You are dead."

"You first, old boy, you first," said Speen, dabbing blood from his chin where Bond had punched him. "Bond, what say you and I put our little altercation on hold until we turn this chap into worm food?"

"Agreed." Bond got to his feet and stood facing Alvey.

Speen punched at Alvey, his artificial arm greatly increasing his strength and sending Alvey flying through a rose bush and landing upside down in a rock garden. Speen and Bond ran through the sodden turf towards their target. Lightning flashed in the background casting the garden into stark relief.

"I hold him down, you strangle him," said Speen.

"I don't think that will work."

"Have you shot him?"

"Frequently."

"Stabbed him?"

"Well, you tried that."

"Cheese wire?"

"Left it in my other suit," said Bond. "Have you tried burning him?"

"Thermal grenades, old boy," said Speen. He shook his head morosely. "Didn't work either. Why don't we hit him on the head, you know there is a nerve centre in…"

"Just tried that."

"Poison?" queried Speen.

"What, we invite him out for a meal and then poison it?"

"It worked when I killed President Stanovich of the Freitezstan Republic."

"There isn't a Freitezstan Republic!"

"Not any more!" said Donnington wolfishly.

"What is it with people today? Why don't they just lie down and die?"

"I know," said Speen as they caught up with Alvey. "It is a fearful bore. You know, in my day you just shot someone twice in the chest and that was it, job done. Back home in time for tea and cakes." Alvey threw a granite boulder at Bond, he rolled to avoid it and came up in front of Alvey. Bond kicked him in the crotch, sending him howling in pain down into the begonias.

Speen picked up a rock and used it to smash at Alvey. Alvey ducked and grabbed Speen by one foot; he sent him spinning and sliding across the garden.

Donnington slid to a halt by a garden light. He grinned to himself. "Bond, get over here man!"

Bond kicked at Alvey and ran towards Speen. The water splashed at each footfall.

Alvey leapt fifteen feet over the head of the British agent and sent a fist whistling towards him. Bond ducked and grabbed one of Alvey's feet to make him lose his balance and followed it with a kick in the stomach.

He then carried on running towards Speen, who was busy levering one of the lights out of the rockery. Alvey made a grab at him but he missed and jumped towards Speen. Speen ripped the sparking cables out of the ground and connected them to Alvey's chest.

There was an agonised screaming sound from Alvey and he collapsed smoking to the ground, small flames erupting down his leg where the electricity grounded itself.

The rain made Alvey's clothes hiss and steam as they went out.

Speen ripped out a small tree with his artificial arm and pushed Alvey off the cable.

"Is he dead?" said Bond.

"We'll see," said Speen. "Hopefully that electricity will have killed off the nano-droids."

They eyed him suspiciously for another few seconds but still nothing. Cautiously Bond felt for a pulse. Nothing. He looked over at Speen who was shielding a small notebook from the rain and ticking a box in it.

"Thanks for the help with that one, Bond. That was worth ten thousand to me. I would give you half but I know the taxman would give you hell," he tutted to himself. "I should have asked for more but didn't know how much trouble he would be." He looked down the list. "Gosh, I really have my work cut out in this place." He drew out a small gun and pointed it at Bond. "Now then, where were we?"


	18. Gotham suffers

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Eighteen**

Bond cursed to himself. He had been foolish, he should have gunned down Speen as soon as they had killed Alvey.

"As one professional to the other," said Speen. "Where do you want the bullet? I won't draw this out any longer than needed."

There was a shadow behind Speen? Someone was creeping up on him.

"I was thinking of your head?" Bond patted the top of his head.

Speen chuckled to himself. "Choose your next comment wisely, for it will be your last." Speen pointed the gun at Bond's head and then slumped to the ground as Alfred crowned him exactly where Bond had requested. Behind him was a rather satisfied looking Alfred holding the remains of a ming vase.

"Thank you, Alfred," said Bond.

"You look terrible, Mr Bond," said Alfred, holding an umbrella in one hand and the remains of the vase in the other. "We really should get you inside and let's take a look at those injuries."

"I'm fine."

"You sound just like Master Bruce. I will not have you leaving drops of blood about the house, it is so difficult to shift from the Persian carpets." Alfred tutted to himself. "Come on inside, please sir."

Bond dragged Speen up the garden path towards the house.

Alfred looked over at the body of Alvey. "Is that Mr…?"

"Alvey. Yes. Sorry about your garden."

"Don't worry about it, sir," said Alfred. "I've been meaning to get the gardeners in to change the design."

They walked through the wrecked window. Bond dragged Speen to a chair and expertly tied him up to it. Alfred walked out of the room saying something about getting a first aid kit.

Selina slinked up to see him. "James," she lightly touched his sodden suit and placed a finger on his cut lip. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes."

* * *

Batman wrenched the Joker to a halt and they looked back at the tunnel. Where they had been was a mass of smoke and dust. Streams of masonry still streamed down from the tunnel where the steel pellets had ricocheted.

The mine was a directional mine and only facing one way. Batman had simply run in the opposite direction to it.

Batman grabbed the Joker's lapels and looked him in the eyes from about three inches away. "One chance. Are there any more traps up ahead?"

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Definitely not."

"Seriously?"

"Well, one or two."

Batman pressed the Joker up, one-handed, against the tunnel wall. His voice was like jagged steel. "How many?"

"One, just the one." The Joker put his one free hand to his mouth while he thought. "Maybe two. Do water pistols count as a trap?"

"No."

"Even if they shoot acid?"

"Yes."

"Four then." He thought for a bit longer. "Maybe five. I mean I don't tend to think of them as traps but as surprises! They are like my babies to me! You wouldn't make me kill my own children, would you?" He looked cherubically at Batman.

"Yes!"

"I like you when you're angry!"

"You're going first. If we trip off one more trap I'll make you eat it."

"You're making me go all goosepimply!"

Batman pushed the Joker in front of him. He stopped. "What now?"

There was a hissing sound and a stream of acid came shooting out of the wall. Judging by the smell it was hydrochloric acid. "Such a shame to waste good acid…" He looked down sorrowfully as the acid started eating through the bottom of the sewer. "Come on, Batso, time's a wastin'" Behind them they could see the nano-droids start to form up again…

* * *

Donnington Speen woke up to a splitting headache.

"What was I drinking last night?"

He looked about the room to see James Bond looking clean and fresh and wearing a rather luxuriant bath robe. There was a very attractive lady next to him. She gave Speen a rather studied look. There was another man next to her. A small balding man who nevertheless held himself with a certain quiet dignity. Alfred, of course. His memory was starting to come back to him. A third man was busy getting himself a drink in the corner. Something about him was familiar to him…

"Where am I?"

"Wayne Manor."

"Ah," he said and tried to stand up, then realised he was tied down. "Alfred, apologies about the trying to kill you thing, strictly business. And I don't know the lady's name. I would shake your hand but I'm rather tied up at the moment." He gave a half smile. "Is this how you greet all your guests?"

"Guests carrying guns, yes," said Alfred. "You're lucky Mr Wayne did not find you…"

"Why?"

"You still have all your teeth."

The other man turned around. "Oh no, Felix Leiter, you old fraud. What are you doing here? I thought Langley would have retired you?"

"Hi Donny, nice to see you again," said Leiter. His smile did not touch his eyes.

"Well, this is all very pleasant and a bit like an episode of 'This is your Life'." He looked about anxiously. "You're not going to bring out my parents and old school friends, are you?"

Bond smiled. "No. We just want some information before we turn you over to the GPD for murder."

"Anything to help out the old firm."

Bond's face was like steel. "Where's Blofeld?"

"China." Donnington squinted a bit. "Or is it Italy? It might be Chile, you know… You know what Ernst is like, he does like a holiday."

Leiter got out a hypodermic from a small black case he was carrying.

Donnington chuckled. "Oh, please. What's that: scopolamine or sodium pentothal? I've been trained by British Intelligence to resist all truth drugs."

"Who said it's a truth drug?"

Speen paled slightly. "What is it?"

Leiter grinned. "You're gonna love this, Donny." He raised the hypodermic to eye level. "Pure alcohol!"

* * *

On the corner of Third Avenue and Seventh Street a manhole cover was levered off and three rather battered and, above all, smelly-looking people emerged.

"Thank goodness, air!" said the Joker. "I don't want to say that you should change your cologne, but really!" He held a handkerchief under his nose.

In the distance could be heard several sirens. Ambulances, and lots of them. Batman walked to the sidewalk to see several people slumped down. He grabbed the Joker. "Is this your doing?"

"Me? When I send people to the afterlife I at least make sure they have a smile on their face." The Joker looked down at the one of the bodies. The people were still twitching. "It's our new-found friend ghostboy, or whatever his name is. When he killed my gang it started off like this." He looked about the streets of Gotham. "I can only assume it is a lot less concentrated out here. In the tunnel they lasted less than five minutes."

Robin knelt next to one of the people. "They're still alive, just."

Batman pressed a button on his utility belt. In the distance there was the thrum of a V8 engine starting. In seconds a sleek black car pulled in next to them.

"Eeerrrmm, Batty?"

"What?"

"Much as being chained to you is like a dream come true, you couldn't loosen the bracelets a smidgeon, could you, ducky?"

* * *

Donnington tried to squirm away from the needle but couldn't. Bond held his one good arm tightly so that a vein would appear and then Leiter injected in the hypodermic. A feeling like ice crept up his arm and his vision suddenly got blurred. Very blurred. In fact everything was in double.

There was a voice. Concentrate on the voice. What was the voice saying?

"Whhhheeerree iiisssss Bbblloooffeeellldd?"

What were they saying? Blofeld? Why didn't they know where Blofeld was? Everyone knows where Blofeld is! It's obvious.

"He's in his sheadqwarterts," he tried to say. Why was he having trouble speaking? What was wrong with him?

"Blllooofffeeeellldddd?" That was Bond, wasn't it? That face in front of him. Alfred was looking very disapproving in the background. Why was he disapproving?

"He'sh in Smolumbia." He shook his head to clear it slightly. "Collfumblia."

"California?"

He shook his head irritably. He was trying to help! Just to clear up this small problem they had. "Colander."

"Canada?"

"No! No! Cam.. Col.. Camerlnonoe."

"Cameroon?"

Why didn't they understand him! "Caslumbia."

"Casablanca?"

"I believe the gentleman is trying to say Colombia, sir."

Donnington shook his head, grateful for the help. That was not a good idea; it made his head spin.

"Where in Colombia?"

"Ciiuiodjalj…"

"We'll untie one arm," said Bond irritably. "Just point to it on the map."

* * *

Gotham Police Station was a riot of noise and officers checking in perps. The station front desk was a lime green. Some battered and fading chairs were next to the reception window. The window was bulletproof but someone evidently thought that was not enough and had covered it in a steel mesh and bars. Anyone speaking to the receptionist did so via a microphone. That was installed after the Scarecrow paid a visit one evening with his fear gas.

That was something that the receptionist was rather pleased about when she saw two rather pungent looking vigilantes dragging in a smelly looking Joker.

"Can I help?" came the tinny voice from the other side.

"I'd like to report a missing sense of humour from these two," said the Joker before he was pushed roughly to one side.

"Tell Gordon I want to see him and get someone to book the Joker in."

"Certainly Batman, please take a seat. He'll be down shortly." She gave them a long look, taking in what they were covered in. "Actually, would you mind standing?" She nodded. "Thanks. If you're going to drip please stand on the mat. Thank you."

Two heavily armoured policemen came in to put the Joker into a straitjacket while a third kept a gun trained on him. "Oh, not white again. It's really not my colour; I did ask about a purple straitjacket last time, I know I did. If you're going to take my clothes could you please have them properly laundered and ironed? And last time I stayed here I lost my stiletto comb with the little happy face on it. What day is it, by the way?"

"Thursday," said one of the policemen as he pushed the Joker none too gently down the corridor towards the cells.

"Oh no, it's not pizza night again, is it?"

"Yes."

"Please ask the chef to make the pizza into a smiley face with the salami and cheese this time. Last time it was cold by the time I'd finished doing that."

"No."

"The room service in this place is terrible. The customer is always right!"

Still jabbering away, the Joker was lead off.

The door opened again and a rather harassed looking Gordon walked in. "Geez, Batman you look like…"

"We've got to talk."

"You got the warhead then?"

Batman patted his utility belt. "Got the plutonium for it. The mechanism is in the tunnels under Gotham."

"Let us know where it is and I'll send my boys down to get it."

He shook his head. "No. Not yet. There is something nasty down there. Nano-droids."

"Nano-droids?"

"Judging by the streets of Gotham, there are a lot out there. They are infecting people."

"Geez, that's what it is? There must be a way to stop them?"

"You might be able to shock them out with electricity, but I don't know how much."

"Batman, we've got over 200,000 casualties at the moment and that number is rising quickly."

Batman put a gloved hand over his eyes. "Any deaths?" he whispered.

"Not yet, but the doctors say people will start dying in 48 hours."

"I've got to go." Batman gestured to Robin. "Come on, Robin." He stalked towards the door. "Robin, come on."

He turned around. Robin was looking very pale and staring at the floor. "I don't feel very…"

Batman picked the boy up and walked out of the station. His pulse was weak and fluttering and his skin was pale. He had picked up a dose of nano-droids. Batman pressed a button on his belt and his car purred up next to him.

With a swish sound the door opened and he laid Robin down gently on the seat. He leapt into the driver's seat and the car roared off down the streets. Down either side of the street were ambulances and people lying collapsed and huddled on street corners.

He clenched the steering wheel and glanced at Robin. He was still alive, at least there was that. He pressed the accelerator and roared out of Gotham towards the cave…

* * *

Thirty minutes later, a newly clean and changed Bruce Wayne, carrying Tim Drake, walked into his living room to see a rather surprising sight. Apart from the unexpected hole in the wall, that is. There was Speen, tied to a chair, but looking curiously happy with his lot; and a man he did not know.

Felix Leiter walked up to him. "Hi, Mr Wayne." He put out his hand. "My name is Felix Leiter. I work for the…"

"CIA, I assume," said Bruce. He did not return the handshake. "What is going on in my house?"

"Master Bruce," said Alfred. "This gentlemen," he pointed at Speen, "and his colleague Dane, who is currently tied up in the kitchen, entered the house and tried to kill us. If it was not for Mr Bond and Miranda they would have succeeded." Bruce walked to the window and took in the scene of devastation in a second. There was a lightning flash that showed the hunched and battered body of Alvey. He clenched his fist. "There is a body in my garden."

"That is Mr Damian Alvey. Bond and Speen had to kill him…"

His voice was like ice. "Had to? In my garden?"

Felix Leiter grinned at Bruce. "My boys can clear up this mess, don't worry."

"Don't worry? You kill someone in my garden. Half of Gotham is dying and Ro… Tim is as well, and you say don't worry?"

Bond stood up. "Apologies for spoiling your hospitality, Bruce, but we've got some bigger problems."

Bruce put Tim down on the sofa. He was very pale and his skin was starting to go blotchy.

"I know." He looked at Bond. "How do we stop them?"

Leiter spoke. "Speen has been singing like Tweety Pie."

Speen was grinning away on the chair and was singing a song about a lady of rather dubious morals.

"So I hear," grimaced Bruce.

"Blofeld has the controls for the nano-droids in his base. We're going to send in a strike team lead by Bond."

"I want to be in on it."

"I don't think you are qualified…"

Bond interrupted. "Let him come as well. Believe me, he will be useful."

"Okay. Blofeld has issued his proclamation to the UN. They have been keeping it under wraps at the moment, but they are having an emergency summit to discuss his proposals. The doctors in Gotham reckon there is about 47 hours before people start dying. Blofeld wants his answer in 46 hours or he will release his rockets on all the major capitals of the world."

A car purred up outside the manor. It was a black Cadillac with tinted windows. "Okay, Mr Wayne. We will be leaving in ten minutes, so Jim can get changed. We will send a clean-up squad to your place shortly." He started smiling. "You won't know we've been here. Do you want us to look after your boy?"

"No." Bruce shook his head. "I'd rather Alfred looked after him. I'll just collect some equipment."

Ten minutes later they were in a car and being driven at great speed out of the Gotham area. Streams of cars were already leaving Gotham as people were gathering what they could and abandoning the city. After ten minutes the car was stuck in traffic. They had to abandon the car by the side of the road and after a quick phone call they were in a helicopter heading towards the airport.

"Where are we going?"

"Gotham Airport," said Leiter. "We've got a jet plane to Belize. Bond is picking up a team of British Special Air Services there to lead into Colombia."

"Why not _our_ special services?"

"This is just an insurgency force. We are gathering our Marines as we speak. When Bond and his boys find the base we'll storm it. However there are certain political niceties to be involved here. We can't just invade a sovereign country, but if we let the Colombians know Blofeld could find out, and we don't want him pressing that button too soon. That's why we want Bond and his boys to finish off Blofeld quickly and quietly."

Bruce looked at his watch. It showed a countdown of under 46 hours.

"How are we getting in?"

"You scared of heights, Bruce?"

"No."

"Good. You're just going to love that bit."


	19. Belize and parachutes

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Nineteen**

Belize. The helicopter flew low over the jungle canopy. A flock of scarlet macaws erupted from the forest and flapped aimlessly around the helicopter before settling back down again.

The temperature was intense and everyone was sweating. The pilot and Bond were in the front of the helicopter while Bruce was sitting by the door looking out. After spending so long in Gotham it was a real eye opener. The sky was an incredible clear blue and the sun, even though it was early in the morning, was really making itself known. Bruce slapped irritably at several insects that were trying to make a meal of him.

They had flown over a few small villages. They were a collection of wooden huts on stilts. Pigs and chickens were wandering around scraping for food. Every time they flew over, the people would be running for shelter. Helicopters meant soldiers and not all soldiers were friendly.

Bruce looked at his watch. They had thirty-six hours left. He was frustrated. He wanted to get going, and quickly. However the SAS team they wanted to accompany them to Colombia was in jungle training in Belize. They were there ostensibly to hone their jungle survival skills, find local marijuana farms for the government to clear out, and also to distribute medical kits to the local villages and improve relations.

Finding them was a real pain. They had radioed in two hours ago and were clearing a landing spot shortly. In the distance was an explosion and a huge gap was ripped in the canopy as a tree fell down. The SAS team had just blown up a tree to clear a space for the landing.

Several seconds later the helicopter was hovering several feet over the gap. Four very dirty and mangy soldiers, weighed down with a lot of kit, clambered on board. They looked like real wild men since they hadn't shaved in several weeks and were covered in the dirt, cuts and scrapes of a life in the jungle.

As soon as they were on board they were off.

"So," said the smallest of the four. "Who are you, then?"

"Bruce Wayne."

"A yank?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing there then?"

He shrugged.

Bond came out to join them. "Hello lads. You'll be going on a small job for the intelligence services."

"Not a slime," groaned one of them. "What have we done to deserve you?"

"Apparently you guys are the best." He looked at the bit of paper he had with him. "I tell a lie; it says you guys got volunteered by your Captain."

"Military Intelligence," one of them perked up. "Does that mean beaches and pina colada's? Four-star hotels on expenses? Following some gorgeous skirt for Queen and Country?"

"No, we're going back into the jungle."

"Where?"

"Colombia. We have to infiltrate and destroy an enemy base."

"Oh joy, more jungle!" One of them threw his arms up in the air and walked over to the pilot. "Let me out here, mate, can you?"

* * *

The rain had eventually stopped in Gotham, leaving a rather damp but clean looking landscape. Alfred was looking after Tim in the Batcave's medical room. He had never liked having the medical facilities down there since the cave, despite all its technology, was damp and draughty. Still he had done his best with a few partitions and heaters.

Tim was still alive but it seemed like there was something eating him away from inside. He had, very cautiously, tried a few mild electric shocks to try and kill off the nano-droids, but aside from being very uncomfortable for Tim and making Alfred feel very, very guilty, nothing had happened.

He was definitely fading and fading fast.

In the garden of Wayne Manor, a CIA clean up team was hard at work to repair the damage caused by the fight between Speen, Bond and Alvey. A small team was quickly and efficiently replacing the window that was smashed in the fight and replastering and repainting the room where the fight had taken place. Some of the paintings and artwork destroyed in the fight could never be replaced, but some could be restored.

* * *

Out in the wrecked garden one of the CIA garden designers was there. "I love what they have done with this garden."

"Yes, but the rock garden ruins the feng shui of the place. It ruins the balance of the garden."

"What do you mean?"

"Here's what I'm thinking. Bamboo."

"What?"

"We plant a row of bamboo pointing towards the pole star. That will align with the earth cycles and create a calming effect for anyone in the garden." The man was getting quite excited about this thought. "We then put in a white gravel peace garden." He started hopping about on one foot in excitement. "This is the clincher. We use curved garden paths to reduce Sha or negative energy and reduce the straight lines in the garden. We then have a nice water feature in the centre and in the flower beds we plant pink begonia's and pink dahlia's in the shape of the Chinese horoscope symbols around the garden like the numbers of a clock!"

The other one looked distinctly unimpressed at this and was looking at his watch. "Or we could just mow the grass and glue the statue back together and then get a few cold beers down at the bar."

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

The first one looked at the paper he had with him. "Wasn't there a body we had to get rid of as well?"

"Yeah. Where is that?"

* * *

Squadron lines in Belize was a riot of noise. From every bedroom in the quarters music was blaring out. There were engines revving up outside and soldiers running about collecting kit and shouting and swearing at each other in a relaxed sort of way. The air was a welter of smells of sweat, diesel and insect repellent. The sun was making the place like a furnace.

Bruce and Bond walked into an aircraft hanger. There in the corner was a huge RAF VC10 plane. The four SAS men had got themselves cleaned up in record time and had spent ten minutes stealing kit from their colleagues in the squadron. Now they were running off before they got caught.

Bruce had got two of their names: Oz and Kirby. The other two didn't speak much, at least not to Bruce and Bond, but they did look tough and efficient. Their kit was weighed down with weapons and survival kit.

Bruce had his own rucksack with him with the tools of his own trade in it. Bond and Bruce had already had a quick chat. The plan was for Bond and the boys to make a lot of noise assaulting the place while Batman slipped in and tried to disable the place.

Soon the plane had taken off. Everyone on board was putting on their skydiving kit. One of the RAF men was explaining to Bruce what was about to happen.

"You'll be doing be doing a High Altitude, High Opening jump. We're going up to 40,000 feet and doing a night jump. You'll be opening the canopy as soon as you jump out the plane and then floating fifty miles across country to where Blofeld is. It will take about an hour to float down. The parachutes don't appear on radar and the plane will be fifty miles away. They won't suspect a thing. You'll land a couple of miles from the base. From then on it will up to you." He pointed to a cord. "This is your parachute rip cord and this one," he pointed to another, "is your emergency rip cord for your secondary parachute."

The suit Bruce was wearing was a specially heated to survive the freezing temperatures at that altitude. They also had to carry their own oxygen tanks.

"You done skydiving before?" asked Oz. He was a small man with a bristly moustache. He looked like he lived and breathed the army. Practically every other word was either an abbreviation or a swear word and to be honest Bruce didn't understand a lot of what he said. He had already accused Bruce of being a Rupert and throwing an eppie scoppie, whatever that was.

"Once or twice," said Bruce. Two of the others were trying to outstare him. They might as well have tried to outstare a brick.

"It's bad enough taking a spook with us, why should we take a civvy?"

One of the soldiers started making small boo noises to try and freak him out. However Bruce Wayne just stared at them impassively.

"What's in your bag?" said Kirby, grabbing his rucksack. "Ooh, shiny things!"

Bruce picked up Kirby with one hand and slammed him against the side of the plane. "Leave my stuff alone."

Oz drew out a long serrated blade but in a fraction of a second Bruce had grabbed his hand and twisted it out. One of the others made to pull out a gun but Bruce was already pressing the knife against Oz's chest. Bruce shook his head slowly and the other two put their guns down.

Bond walked in from chatting to the pilot and grinned at the tableau in front of him. "Glad to see you boys are getting along. Bruce, put Kirby down please." Bruce relaxed his grip. "Thanks. Mr Wayne here is an expert in urban incursions. You boys are experts in jungle survival and infiltration assaults. Now as long as we don't talk to each other, I reckon we'll get along famously."

A voice came over the tannoy. "We're currently flying twenty miles off the coast of Colombia. You'll have a green light in five minutes. Good luck, boys."

* * *

Alfred was bustling around his small kitchen in his quarters making up a few mugs of coffee for the CIA clean up team. Tim was currently asleep and there was nothing much more he could for him. He would make sure the work team were happy and not doing anything they shouldn't be. Once when they had a team of workers in the mansion repairing the damage from Bane's visit they nearly uncovered the entrance to the cave. It was only some well-timed coffee, home made cookies and fainting in front of them that distracted them.

He looked down at the bit of paper he had. Two with sugar. One without. One with chocolate chip shavings and sugar. Now were the ones with sugar with milk as well? Oh well, he could take the milk carton with him and they could work it out themselves.

He loaded up the tray with various other biscuits and cookies and glided out of the kitchen. Miranda had gone to stay with relatives in the country until this problem was sorted out. Selina seemed to have disappeared. But with her that was no surprise. She was very much her own woman.

He walked out into the corridor. The delicious smell of percolating coffee was permeating the air. Although he still drank lots of tea he was starting to enjoy a decent coffee.

It certainly seemed quiet up ahead. The bustle of work team repairing the damage to the window and the room seemed to have died down. They can't have finished already can they? His foot felt sticky. He looked down to see a pool of blood. The mugs started to rattle on the tray as he shook. He looked around the corner to see the bodies of the CIA clean up team.

* * *

Bond had picked up a small bag from the British Embassy when he was in Belize. It was full of gadgets from Q branch. He was just familiarising himself with them.

Standard knockout gas, replacement Walter P99, grappling hooks, insect repellant, factor 25 sun block and an explosives tester. He looked at it curiously. This was a new piece of kit. He switched it on and it started beeping at him. He switched if off again and it was quiet. He switched it back on again and started walking about the plane with it. The beeping got louder and louder as he walked up the plane.

With a sick feeling in his stomach he lifted up one of the floor gratings in the plane and there he could see it. There was a bomb welded to the airplane frame, so he couldn't even throw it out. There was a small digital readout. Four minutes left… In a second he took in the important details. Mercury trip switch, and dual powered. If he so much as touched it, it could explode.

He ran to the cockpit. "Have you two got any spare oxygen tanks and parachutes?"

"Yes, why?"

"Get them on, now!"

"We're flying a plane."

"You'll be flying nothing soon. Someone's attached a bomb to the frame. We need to get out of here now!"

"A bomb? Seriously?"

"Get ready. We've got to go!"

Three minutes later the pilots were suited and booted and ready to jump. Kirby, Oz and Wayne had all looked at the bomb and they had all decided against playing with it. It was a real professional job. Someone did not want this plane to come back.

With a whining sound the door opened at the back of the plane and the men all lined up to jump. The wind started pulling at Bond's jump suit. He checked his kit bag again to make sure it was packed right. If it wasn't and he got off balance he could get into a deadly spin. The sky was a velvet black colour with pinpricks of stars. Bond looked at his watch. Just twenty-four hours left…

Bruce Wayne jumped out first. A split second later, Oz, then the other soldiers and pilots. Bond was last. He jumped out of the plane and yanked the cord. With a thump sound the canopy opened and he was jerked upwards. Below him he could see the canopies of the others.

In the distance he could see the plane disappear when it exploded in a ball of flame. Bits of flaming debris arced in the sky. He heard the whistling sound of fragments fly past him. He looked up and could see a couple of small scorched holes in his parachute. In seconds the light from the explosion disappeared so that now all he could see was the stars. The silence was breathtaking. There was just the gentle whistle of the breeze and the occasional sounds of his canopy creaking.

He had been given a GPS tracker to home in on their target. Their equipment was tied in a bag hanging from a rope beneath their feet. Below him he could see, by the light of the moon, the white lines of the surf on the sea as it broke against the coast. Several small fishing villages were dotted along the coast and he could see the lights flickering below. He could even see car headlights. People carrying on their lives little suspecting who was floating above their heads?

He could start to hear the sounds of dogs barking below. They were still about 20,000 feet and had another half an hour to go. He looked below and could see that one of the pilots was in trouble. His parachute had somehow got twisted and ripped, he assumed from the debris of the exploding plane. Why wasn't he doing anything about it? Without warning the parachute tore off him and the man fell to the earth like a stone.

Bond pressed the release switch in the middle of his webbing and fell from his own parachute towards the pilot. He bent his arms back against his body to increase his speed and catch up with the falling man.

He could not believe he was risking his life for another. He was being a fool. If the pilot couldn't parachute properly that was his lookout not his. Just a few weeks ago he would not have risked the mission for one man. He nearly lost sight of the falling pilot because of the darkness. The wind pushed his goggles into his face and dried his mouth up as he increased in speed.

He was falling incredibly quickly. The pilot ahead of him seemed to be unconscious or something? He caught up with the man and looked in shock at his head. There was a bullet wound in his forehead. He was about ten thousand feet from the ground now. He pulled his emergency ripcord for his secondary parachute and felt his stomach lurch in fear as nothing happened…


	20. Escape and evasion

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Twenty**

Bond was tumbling through the inky blackness of the Colombian sky. The dead pilot was a dead weight to him and sent him spinning uncontrollably through the air. His spare parachute did not work but that did not mean the pilot's would not.

He released his own parachute from his back, it disappeared in an instant, and he ripped the pilot's parachute off him and let the body tumble like a rag doll through the air away from him. It was difficult to put the parachute on in the slipstream. Practically impossible. The wind threatened to remove it from his back. Stop complaining! Just do it!

Somehow he managed to get the parachute on his back and he pulled the spare ripcord. With a feeling of immense relief he felt himself jerk upwards as the parachute caught the air. Seconds later he plunged through the canopy of the jungle and ended up hanging about thirty feet from the jungle floor. His clothes were scratched, ripped and torn by the branches. He studied his arms and legs almost clinically. His army clothes and Kevlar jacket had protected him from most of the damage. He looked up.

The sun was just starting to appear at the horizon and was turning the jungle from stygian blackness to a blaze of reds and yellows. Bond was not looking at this though, because the parachute material was starting to rip. If he wasn't careful he would be continuing the rest of his journey to the ground without a parachute.

Thirty feet might as well be thirty thousand feet. They can both kill you. In parachute training years ago, Bond had known a man who had landed in a tree. The fool had cut himself down with a knife and broken both his legs and crushed a vertebra. There was an ominous ripping sound from above. Carefully he started to unbuckle his harness. There was a hissing sound as he was jerked down five feet. Beams of sunshine started to pierce the canopy and it showed Bond what was below him. Nothing much, just a bone breaking fall. Meanwhile, the tearing of the canopy was good in that it sent him closer to the ground, but bad in that he was more in danger of falling.

The canopy tore some more and he was lowered another four feet. He looked up, the sweat filling his eyes, and he saw there was only another two feet of material holding him up. He was still twenty feet above the ground. On the positive side he would probably survive the fall but he would probably break something or sprain his ankle. In the jungle if you were injured you might as well dig a grave for yourself since it would be the last thing you would do.

Could he swing to the tree? No, his support would break before that. Could he clamber up to the branch? Again, probably not. What about the fall to the ground now? Twenty feet. Could he lower that? He carefully unbuckled his parachute and lowered himself down, hanging on with his hands. That reduced the distance to about fifteen feet. Getting better all the time, if he was careful he should be all right. There was a ripping sound, and the parachute material gave up the unequal struggle and sent Bond tumbling to the ground…

* * *

Bruce Wayne saw Bond try to rescue the pilot and make a last-second parachute landing. The pilot had fallen too far from him to be able to do anything about it. What was the man doing? He circled back round to where Bond had landed and found a small clearing with a wooden hut in it to land in. The four SAS men and the other pilot followed him down.

They were miles off course. He checked his watch. Twenty hours left and they had about twenty miles to go to Blofeld's lair. He landed with ease in the clearing and in seconds had wrapped up his parachute.

The SAS men landed with practiced skill by him.

Kirby grinned at him, his mouth showing several gold fillings, as he rolled up his parachute. "This looks like a real balls up, don't it?"

Wayne grunted at him.

"Where's the slime then?"

"What do you mean slime?"

"Military Intelligence," said Kirby in an exaggerated stupid voice. "Last I saw him he was dropping like a stone towards some trees. He's probably dead the speed he landed at; let's see if we can find his body, he had some Gucci boots on."

Two of the SAS men were already reconnoitring the hut. They drew blackened knives and walked into the hut. Bruce was shocked. What were they doing?

There was a muffled scream sound from the hut and Kirby grinned at him. "We don't want no-one saying we're here, do we?"

Oz walked out of the hut cleaning the knife as he went. "Just an old bird and a kid. No-body heavy."

Bruce was furious he stormed up to Oz and was about to hit him when he heard a tell tale click behind him. "Careful, Yank. You're in the jungle now. Our rules." Oz spoke slowly. "If we shoot you, who cares?"

* * *

Alvey was not alive. He was walking and breathing but that part of him that could be called life had left him a long time ago. The nano-droids had no-body else to lead them though, so they had brought him back again. The collective consciousness of the nano-droids realised they had a problem. They had infected about a quarter of the Gothamites but the rest had fled. They were not powerful enough to kill quickly in the outside world. In a week or two the weather would destroy the remaining nano-droids, those outside people or undercover, anyway.

They needed an agent to carry on the fight. Alvey was their agent. He had been changed by the droids, mutated. He was extremely powerful and he could heal himself thanks to the nano-droids inside him. The electricity had killed all the original ones inside him but the nano-droids had simply summoned all the nanos in the area to infect him again.

Now he had just had one driving purpose. To kill anyone he found. True it was not much of a purpose, but it kept him going…

* * *

Bond was only about ten feet from the ground when he finally fell. He landed heavily but rolled with it. His twisted his ankle slightly and winced a bit with it but other than that he got off lightly.

He started thinking about what had happened so far. The bomb was set to explode just after they had left the plane. One of the pilots had been killed. Shot at as he was parachuting down. That took some fearsome shooting.

It had to be the SAS. Why though? Only one possible reason. Blofeld must have got to them. He shrugged. It had happened before. More times than people cared to think about. They had been in the jungles of South America for many months hunting down drug barons in Belize. Blofeld was known to have taken over a lot of the drug running in Central and South America. Blofeld and his men might have paid them to look the other way.

Who knew how far that loyalty lies? Take Donnington Speen. Former MI6 man like Bond himself. It doesn't take much to persuade a man his loyalties lay elsewhere. In Bond's estimation about $2,000,000.

People had tried to pay Bond off before but for him it was never about money. It wasn't really for Queen and Country either. It was about the challenge. About being better than anyone else. No money could replace that feeling of exhilaration. At being the best; at being the top of the tree.

BANG!

There was a shot in the distance, a flock of green parrots erupted from the trees at the sound. Bond started jogging towards the noise. His ankle hurt at first but after a few paces he had locked the pain away and ignored it.

* * *

Alfred peered nervously around the corner. The CIA men were dead and Alvey was standing in the middle of them, clutching a broken and bloodied broom handle. Quietly he backed away from the room and started running nervously towards the clock. He needed to get to the cave, quickly.

His hands shaking, he changed the hands to the time when Bruce's parents had died and opened the door. He quietly closed it behind him and pattered down the stairs towards Tim. Could he stop Alvey? He has his choice of Master Bruce's weapons down here.

He shook his head. How could he stop him? Mr Bond had thought him dead, and although he did not approve of the man, if he thought someone was dead, who was to say different? If Bond could not stop Alvey, how could he?

He ran up to Tim. "Tim! Tim!" He hissed. "Wake up! Wake up!"

Tim, still looking very pale, woke up. "Alfred? Where am I?"

"You're in the cave," said Alfred. "You have to get up!"

Tim tried to lower his feet to the floor but was very shaky. "What's wrong with me? Where's Bruce?"

"Master Bruce is in Colombia with Mr Bond," said Alfred. "They are trying to stop a man called Mr Blofeld. He is responsible for these nano-droids apparently. He is the only one who can stop them!"

"Where are we going?" muttered Tim.

"In the car," said Alfred. "Come on! Come on!" It said something for his mood that he was trying to hurry along the sick Tim. Normally he would not even think of such a thing. "Please hurry up!"

Alfred had picked up the remote locking mechanism from the cabinet as he ran down the stairs. He pressed the button. There was a clicking sound and a grinding sound. "Come on! Come on!" From the top of the stairs was a sound like a door being kicked down, which was rather apt because that is what it was. The long shadow of Alvey travelled down the stairs, almost to where Alfred was.

"You must die," said Alvey in a monotone.

"Please work!" cried Alfred. "Please work!" He pressed the button vainly again but nothing happened. The engine was growling and not sounding at all healthy. He clicked a button on the remote locking mechanism and the hood shot up. Underneath the engine had been eaten away by the nano-droids, hungry for materials.

Alvey, looking pale and battered with dark rings under both his eyes walked towards Alfred and the sick Tim; he was clutching an old blood stained broom handle in one hand…

* * *

The SAS men were grinning as they looked at Bruce.

"Can't believe our luck. Blofeld pays our wages," said Oz. "Those numpties at Head Shed gave the job to us! Blofeld has promised us ten mill to lose you lot…" He licked his lips. "Permanently. We tell headquarters we couldn't find Blofeld and lost you lot in a skirmish with tribesmen or something. Everyone's a winner!" He thought about this a moment. "Well, everyone but you, to be fair."

The other pilot, who had landed about a hundred yards away, walked up to the menacing group of SAS soldiers. "Okay lads," he said in a posh English accent. "Pilot Officer Davis reporting for duty! What's next? Do we send off a radio signal and get help in?" He was looking about the jungle. "I say, what a place this is! You know I normally fly above all this shrubbery. It looks like my garden at home, you know. My wife is always on at me to get out the lawn mower."

"Shut it," said Oz viciously.

"Shut it, of course shut it," said the Davis, mulling over those words. "But what a parachute jump! I mean I've done a couple in training of course, but nothing like that!" He looked over at Kirby. "What happened to my co-pilot by the way? Bill? I lost sight of the old chap, he owes me a G & T in the officers mess."

Kirby got his snipers rifle from his shoulder. "This happened to him, I shot him just as he jumped from the plane. Run."

"What the devil do you mean?"

"Run," said Kirby. "You too, Wayne. Let's make this interesting. You've got five minutes, then we come after you."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Kirby put the rifle to his eye and sent a shot through Davis' sleeve, just lightly nicking him. "Ouch!" The pilot looked at his sleeve. "I say, good shot! Are you one of those trick shootist chappies? You should appear on telly, they've got a program for people like you."

Bruce grabbed his bag and grabbed the pilot. The SAS were too spread out for him to do anything about it in the open. If he got them alone in the jungle he might stand a chance… Might…

"Come on, let's go!" growled Bruce and he pushed the hapless pilot in front of him.

"Where are we going?"

"RUN!"

Bruce Wayne and the pilot were swallowed up by the jungle in seconds.

Kirby put down the rifle and grinned. "Are you mad?" said Oz. "We might lose them!"

"Not really, we'll just track 'em," said Kirby. "It saves us carrying the bodies into the jungle." He looked at his watch. "Come on, let's go."

"You said you'd give 'em five minutes?"

"I lied," said Kirby. He slapped himself on the wrist. "Naughty Kirby! Come on lads! We have to kill a loony pilot and an American civvy. How hard can it be?"

* * *

Bruce Wayne dragged the hapless pilot through the undergrowth. He was lumbered with a real dead weight here, but he couldn't just leave him to the tender mercies of Kirby and Oz. Where the hell was Bond?

Was he really dead? He was certainly headed that way. In the distance was a figure running towards him.

Silently Bruce ducked down, hiding his form in the undergrowth in a second.

"Yoo hoo!" yelled the pilot. "I say! Over here! It's James isn't it? Splendid to see you again, how are you keeping?"

"Hello," said Bond. "What's going on? Where's Wayne?"

"Bruce is just down here," said the pilot, pointing downwards. "It's a fearful bore but those SAS chappies seem to have gone bad. Like cheese you know, left in the sun too long. They've curdled. Or is that milk?" He pointed to his sleeve. "Have you seen what they've done to my sleeve? They've added an air vent. I'll have to replace it. You know my wife won't pick up a needle at home to save her life. Did you know she fixed my white collar with blue wool? I told her if she did that again I'd mend my own clothes. I gave her a last chance with my spare pilot's shirt and you'll never guess what she embroidered in the back? She knows my name is not Dick, I don't know what she was thinking!"

"Talk a lot, don't you?" said Bond, dragging Davis with one arm westwards. He looked at his GPRS device. "We've got to keep heading west for twenty miles before we come across Blofeld's base, but I doubt the SAS will make life easy for us." There was a whistling sound overhead and something tore a chunk out of the tree above his head. "Get down!"

Davis and Wayne crouched down low behind a rock. Bruce got out a small dentist's mirror from his bag and lifted it up above his head. "One's got us pinned down to the east of us."

"Where are the others?"

"They are trying to flank us," said Bruce, looking around him. "Damn!" Another shot smashed the mirror he was holding above the rock.

Bond got out his Walther PPK and fired off a couple of shots above the rock, more in the hope of distracting them than doing any damage.

"Okay Bruce," said Bond. "I don't know if you've got a plan but…" He looked about. "Bruce? Bruce?"

* * *

Kirby was feeling very pleased with himself. Trying to follow Wayne and Davis was like trying to follow a herd of elephants. It looked like they had met up with Bond! Bonus! He was wearing the very pair of boots that Kirby wanted.

Oz had let Blofeld know that they had arrived. He told him he couldn't stop the Marines turning up but it would at least buy him some time. He had been told to kill Bond and Wayne and there was an extra five million in it for him. In sterling as well, not dollars. Very nice little nest egg that would be, he already had plans to buy a bar in the Bahama's and just invite a few of the lads over for a party. It would be sweet. Blofeld said a group of local fighters would be joining them soon. Oz said they didn't want them. A bunch of amateurs ruining the show would just get in the way but Blofeld was pretty insistent.

He peered through the gun sights at where Bond, that pilot and Wayne were. He chuckled to himself. They were keeping a low profile, not that it would do them any good. He saw a mirror appear above the rock.

He let half his breath out and, froze a moment to steady himself and let loose one shot. The mirror disintegrated. Tricky bunch, but it would them no good. Oz was creeping up on their position with a grenade launcher. When they were in range he would simply blow them up.

What was that?

He could have sworn he saw something. Something dark climbing the tree behind where Bond, Wayne and Davis were. Must have imagined it. These woods are full of shadows. Probably a monkey or something?

Bond fired a couple of shots over the rock towards them. They whistled overhead but went no-where near them. He crawled closer towards them keeping a very low profile.

There was a small chirruping sound to his right indicating that Oz was in place. He gave a small whistle sound and Oz fired a grenade launcher at where Bond, Wayne and Davis were last seen.


	21. Rumble in the Jungle

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Twenty-One**

There was a distinctive crump sound as the grenade exploded. Several burnt and scorched leaves scattered through the jungle. Oz got to his feet and ran to the spot that had just exploded.

He steeled himself for what to expect. A few battered and bleeding bodies. He had seen it enough times in action - but what he saw was nothing. Where the hell were they? They couldn't have disappeared, could they? Of course not, that was stupid.

His training came back into play and he ducked down again. There was a slight movement to his right and he whipped his gun round to face the threat. It was Kirby.

"Where is he?" he whispered.

Oz shrugged. "God knows. Don't move; you'll muck up the tracks." With a trained eye Oz looked about the jungle. There in front of him was what he wanted to see. One of the leaves of a tree was not facing the sun like its fellows. It had been pushed to one side and not corrected itself. They must have crawled out in that direction.

A tricky sod, was this group. He took out his cartridge and replaced it with a full cartridge. He had only fired one bullet at the pilot before, but in a firefight one bullet could be all that stands between you and being plant food.

He gave a low whistle and only one other soldier arrived. Where was Smithy? He gave another low whistle. Still nothing. Stupid idiot must have tripped over a root or something.

"We ain't got time to wait," said Oz. "Let's go. Come on!" He shifted his Bergen on his back and winced. He still had several sores on his shoulders from the long jungle trek they had had in Belize. Typical of the army, don't wait for them to recover, they just go straight from one job to another. Still this one should pay more than any others.

"We've gotta wait for Smithy," said Kirby.

"Yeah," said Aikman, the other soldier. Aikman was a man of few words. Back at base camp they took bets as to how many words he would say a day. The record was ten and that was only because Oz had stamped on his foot. To be fair, it was only two different words he said ten times and they were just four letters each.

"Don't be stupid," said Oz. "Blofeld pays us $10 mill for their deaths. It's one less isn't it?"

"Where's he gone though?"

"How would I know? Come on, let's go."

Oz carefully followed the trail, in front of him. A bent twig there, a broken spider web here. Just there the imprint of a boot left by a puddle. God, a child could follow these idiots, the way they were leaving sign about the place! Was it too obvious? Were they leading him into a trap? Of course they weren't! He had been training in jungle warfare for the past two years! Two years ago he didn't know his Anaconda from his Eland. These people were green.

Nervously he checked his gun again. Still loaded. Of course it's still loaded. Why wouldn't it be loaded? He still took the cartridge out and checked.

He looked back at Kirby. The rivulets of sweat were starting to clear channels through the camouflage paint.

"Where the hell is Aikman?" He hissed.

Kirby looked at Oz like he was stupid. "He's right behind me, you nonce!" He looked back and muttered an expletive. "But he was there! I looked back thirty seconds ago! Where the hell has the stupid idiot gone?"

A shadow passed overhead and the tree next to him shook him slightly. He looked up curiously. Was one of the shadows slightly darker than the others up there? Was he imagining it? In milliseconds he aimed his gun up at the trees and started shooting. Something fell from the tree and landed with a crash about five yards away…

* * *

Deep in the alkali flats, about twenty miles North-west of Gotham, is a fairly non-descript military base. There are a few square miles of warehouses and other assorted buildings and a couple of hundred American GIs stationed there. It has one airstrip, which was lengthened ten years ago to take the BlackHawk planes which occasionally refuel there, and a single jetty with a small narrow-gauge railway on it to take supplies out to ships. The jetty is about half a mile in length because the sea is so shallow there and the military cargo ships can't dock there. They did try dredging operations for a few years to allow ships in closer but realised the simplest way was just to extend the pier.

The base is not kept a secret. Why should it be? It only cooks and processes food for the soldiers working away from home. It is next to the coast so that it can supply ships.

At least that is what everybody was supposed to think. Damian Alvey once supplied the US military with rocket technology when he was in charge of Wayne Tech. He knew that the warehouses were just a façade. Why do they need 200 hundred elite marines on a constant state of readiness guarding a few warehouses? Deep underground lies the real reason for them.

There are twenty nuclear missiles in a constant state of readiness to deal with whatever threat there is. Damian Alvey knew about this; now the nano-droids consciousness knew about it.

One of the guards outside the gate looked curiously at the horizon. For some reason the air seemed thicker, if that was the word. He didn't know how the air could look thicker, but it did. He shuddered and walked back to his guard post. Not worth worrying about that.

One of the officers deep underground in a constant state of readiness had his feet up on the console and a mug of steaming coffee to one side. In one hand he was reading a book with a picture of a pair of stockinged legs on the cover and the title of "Passionate Words – a Sexy Negligee Story."

Flight Officer Anderson, or Miranda to her friends, was trying to get the book back off him.

"I can't believe the rubbish you girls read," said Flight Officer Proctor. He started reading from the page whilst fending off Miranda with one hand. "_He took her in his powerful masculine arms. If I was 16 I would say I think I love you, now I'm 30 I know I do._ This is good stuff you know; I'll have to use this down at the bar. _His blue eyes stared into her soul and his muscular arms crushed the breath from her body with his powerful grasp. _Is he trying to kill her do you think? She can't like that?"

"Give me that book back!"

"Just a second! Just a second! This is good stuff! Listen to this!…" He heard a gasping sound from Miranda. "Calm down Merry," he said; he only called her that because it annoyed her. "I'll give you your book back." The air seemed to thicken around him. "What the hell is going on?" Miranda was going a mottled red colour and she collapsed on the floor, sending the office chair spinning into the corner.

Red lights, lights that had not flashed in their entire life, started flashing and a booming klaxon sound boomed out around him. Proctor stumbled to his feet, spilling his coffee and looked in shock at the screen. The plutonium in all the missiles was depleting rapidly. That was the last thing he saw; the concentrated nano-droids in the air entered his bloodstream and killed him.

* * *

Alfred stumbled backwards, holding onto Timothy with one hand and pushed him into the Batmobile. Alvey swung at him with his makeshift club, just missing him. Alfred clambered into the driver's seat and pressed the button. Nothing happened.

One of the things few people realise about the Batmobile is that it has two engines, mainly because of how paranoid the Bat is. Alfred pressed the secondary ignition button and the car roared into life. He swung the car round and accelerated up the ramp.

His heart was beating like a jackhammer. The car was not as fast it normally was, the two engines gave it the sort of power that a formula one car has, but it could still give a good race to a Ferrari.

The car skidded and twisted around the cave until it reached the end and leapt outside.

He looked in the rear view mirror. A motorcycle was approaching fast. Batman's motorcycle.

Tim was still quite woozy but he was at least paying attention. "Press that pedal, Alfred."

"I am! I am!" The car gave a throaty cough as it tried to leap into action. The normally responsive pedals were not giving him enough power. "Please go away! Please go away!"

Alvey zoomed up next to him and started to try and smash his way into the Batmobile. For most normal people trying to smash their way into the Batmobile with their hands would lead to a few painful months in surgery, developing a life long love affair with morphine, and getting one's fill of cheerful relatives saying that a broken hand is nothing! When I was your age…

Alvey was spared all this because the nano-droids had greatly enhanced his strength. He punched clean through the triple thickened, bullet proof glass and started to peel back the side of the car like it was made of paper…

* * *

Blofeld was busy listening at the radio signals his team were hacking into below. The beginnings of a smile was starting to flicker at his lips. One of his men came nervously up to him.

"We've got a big problem, sir."

"I want to hear solutions, not problems."

The man thought a moment and talked slowly. "We've got a big solution for a…" He carried on thinking. Where was a thesaurus when you needed one? "Quandary…" Blofeld hissed with rage. "Not quandary! Not quandary! Issue? Dilemma? Sticky situation?"

"Just talk."

"The nano-droids in Gotham are increasing exponentially again. We estimate that the Eastern seaboard in America will be overrun in three days. We've got to pull the plug on this, sir, while we have time. The magnetic pulse generator will only work in a hundred mile radius of Gotham. When they are out of there, they are out of our control. We also might have another… difficulty sir."

"What?"

"We are monitoring the military air waves. As you predicted, sir, they have lost touch with Bond's team. Our helicopter gunships are approaching the area and are reporting lots of shooting. The SAS have not reported Bond's death yet."

Blofeld smiled. "Bond would always go down fighting. I want you to napalm the area."

"But sir, the SAS…"

"The SAS are martyrs to the cause."

"Also the American military are getting twitchy. Two of their submarines are fifty miles off the coast. If they decide against sending Marines in they will probably send in cruise missiles. We have to move the base now. We are compromised."

"The nano-droids in Gotham achieving sentience is a fortunate happenstance. How quickly can you deliver a payload of our nano-droids here to where the submarines are?"

"Five minutes, but I will not be a party to murder, sir."

For a moment a thunderous expression crossed over Blofeld's face. Just as quickly it disappeared. "I understand, I understand, you're a man of principle, like me. Elliot, just follow me a moment…"

"Certainly, sir."

"Do you know what happened to the original inhabitants of these pyramids?"

Elliott followed nervously behind Blofeld. The ancient stone corridors were at odds with the high technology that surrounded him. "No sir, I was not part of the project to build this base."

"The people here worshipped the sun. Their civilisation lasted a thousand years." Blofeld pointed at some hieroglyphics involving some rather interesting sacrifices. "Much to the bemusement of their neighbours, they disappeared one night when they were excavating these catacombs beneath the temple." Blofeld had stopped at the end of the passageway. Below was a stygian darkness

"Really sir?" said Elliott, peering down. The floor seemed to be moving below him. "What happened to them?"

Blofeld violently pushed him into the cave below.

Elliott landed with a thump about ten feet below him. Above him in the light cast by the corridor he could see Blofeld walk away. His malevolent chuckling echoed and re-echoed about the chamber.

Shaking with fear, Elliott got out a small cigarette lighter and started screaming. The skeletons of thousands of people surrounded him and his feet were crushing hundreds of grubs. He started running but tripped up over the skeleton of an ancient warrior and fell face down amongst hundreds of giant flesh eating grubs. In just seconds another skeleton joined the others.

* * *

Oz walked up to the shape that he had shot out of the tree. Jeez, it was just a stupid monkey.

He trained the gun back into the jungle.

"Ueerrgghhh!"

What the hell was that? Where was Kirby? There was a human shape rising quickly through the jungle towards the canopy. Oz loosed a few shots and the person fell twitching to the ground in front of him. In the distance could be heard the sound of approaching choppers…


	22. Spider's and hangovers

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Twenty-Two**

Oz ran up to the body that was lying shuddering in the jungle. He swore violently and viciously. It was Kirby. Only the ceramic plates in his body armour had stopped the bullets from piercing his chest. As it was, he had narrowly avoided being killed. There was some sort of wire round his chest. One of his bullets must have cut the cord. What the hell was happening here?

Kirby was swearing fluently as well as he tore the wires from his arms. "What the hell are you doing, Oz? You trying to kill me?" He leapt at Oz and his questing hands found his neck.

Oz kicked Kirby between the legs and punched him on the jaw. "Shut it, you nonce! I didn't know that was you! How the hell was I to know that was you? What the hell happened to you anyway?"

Kirby was coughing and choking on the ground. He was battered and bruised and the momentary anger that had filled his soul had gone. It was rare he got angry and rare he got scared. Now he was both of those. "It must be that American. He's got in the trees somehow! He wants to take us out."

"Not if we kill him first," said Oz. He dumped his Bergen down and quickly searched through it. "Heat sensitive goggles," he said, flipping them over his eyes. "You put yours on as well, mate."

The world was a mass of green and blues showing the cold trees and ground. Up in the canopy could be seen the small red dots showing birds and monkeys. In his vision could be seen the cooling barrel of his gun and the small cross hairs. In the distance could be seen a helicopter. "Jeez," he swore. He could see two people hanging upside down high up in the canopy. They were hanging upside down. Judging by the heat they were still alive and judging by the guns they had with them they were his men.

What the hell had carried them up fifty foot into the canopy? Without thinking, his hand reached up to his neck and found his crucifix. It had been ten long violent years since he had last been to church but he still remembered his Bible readings. _"Be sure your sins will find you out."_ He had sinned much in the past few years. Was this his vengeance?

He had faced terrorists in the Middle East, drug barons in South America and even his mum when she had too much wine at Christmas, but nothing had made his heart thump so much as now…

* * *

Tim grabbed the steering wheel of the Batmobile and swung viciously to one side. There was a satisfying crump sound and the bike that Alvey was riding was sent crashing into a building.

THUMP!

Tim looked up and could see Alvey had grabbed hold of the roof and was trying to smash his way in.

THUMP!

A dent appeared in the roof above him. Tim pressed a button and the roof slid back, throwing Alvey into the road behind him.

He looked over his shoulder and could see Alvey get to his feet and start running down the road towards them.

He pressed the button again; the roof slid back.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

Alfred was quiet and thinking.

"Where are we going?" he asked again.

The last he saw of Alvey was him breaking into a parked car. The Batmobile was dying. The engine was starting to give out. With a horrible whining sound the car just gave up. Alfred cruised the car onto the sidewalk.

"Come on, Tim. We need somewhere safe… Gotham Police Station."

* * *

Batman was hanging upside down from a tree, staring intently at the SAS below. A smile touched his lips. They were getting twitchy. Good. He was still as a statue even as a small brown spider with an incredibly delicate touch started weaving a web from the tree stem to his hand.

The SAS fired a few bullets into the trees; fortunately none going anywhere near him. He could see Bond below closing in quietly on the SAS position like a predatory cat.

His eyes then focussed again on the spider and a chill went up his spine. It was a _Chiracanthium inclusum_, a small brown sac spider. Little was known about it since it lived in the jungle, but what was known about it was frightening. It had a highly venomous bite and the bites frequently turned necrotic and gangrenous. If you survived the bite you would probably have to survive an amputation as well.

It started crawling up his naked hand. It was so hot in the jungle that he had just put his mask on under his jungle hat. He had no gloves on.

This was a mistake…

It took all his strength of will not to move or even twitch. The SAS were putting on heat sensitive goggles. It would not be long before they saw him.

With barely a touch, the spider crawled over his hand and over his watch. It was now on his arm and getting ready to make the journey up his sleeve.

Unbidden images of necrotic bites took to his mind, and himself screaming on a surgery table as they cut off his arm. He felt something on his fingers. Three more _inclusum_ spiders started the slow crawl up his arm dodging beads of sweat as they went.

* * *

"Oohhhhhhhh!" The heartwrending cry swept through the holding cells of Gotham Police Station and quietened even the most rabid drunk.

"Ooohhhhhhhh!"

Donnington Speen felt like the inside of his head had been scooped out and replaced with the Brooklyn Tap Dancing club playing one night only in concrete boots. He raised a hand to his head and opened one bloodshot eye.

What had they injected him with?

Oh yes. Alcohol. Lots of alcohol.

He always got bad hangovers. Back when he was studying in Cambridge University he and his friends used to try for the 'King Street Run'. They would start out drinking in the 'Seven Stars' and have a pint in every pub up to the 'King Street Run'.

He always just about made it to the third pub before passing out.

"Mr Speen? Mr Speen?"

"Ooohhh! What is it, Dane?"

"We're in jail, Mr Speen."

"I'm in hell!" He woozily tried to sit up. The effort was too much for him and he immediately lay down again. "Get me some aspirin…"

"How are we going to get out, Mr Speen?"

"There's that word again, 'we'," said Speen, still refusing to open his eyes. "In jail it is every man for himself."

"Okay then, I'll keep these for myself…"

Donnington opened one bloodshot eye suspiciously. "Keep what for yourself?"

"This aspirin. That nice policeman gave me some for you when you woke up, but if it is every man for himself…" Dane looked at the little silver packet of tablets. He then yelped as Speen grabbed them with whiplash speed with his mechanical arm.

"Dane, I have always said what a bright lad you are." He opened the tablets and happily crunched two of them together between his teeth.

"No you haven't," said Dane. "You said I had less brains than a squashed slug."

"Wiser words I never have said."

Speen opened one bleary eye and looked at the jail cell. Fairly non-descript steel cell door. Concrete walls, window high up in the wall, strange chemical smell from the toilet.

He had been in worse. Far worse. At least here they weren't showing him various torture implements.

What was it with torturers? They were like people showing you their holiday snaps. Probably just as painful. _This is a pair of pliers. I picked that up in Saigon. Great for extracting toe nails. There's a funny story about that I'll tell you later._

The aspirin and his training were starting to shake off the hangover. He woozily sat up. The contents of his stomach were threatening to escape, but since he was sitting in front of Dane he wasn't too bothered.

He looked about the cell. Even with his enhanced strength they were probably stuck. He might be able to try a jailbreak later. People were always surprised when he burst out of handcuffs with his mechanical strength.

"Do you think Mr Blofeld will be happy you told them where his base is?"

Speen opened one eye and fixed Dane with a baleful glare. "You know what, Dane? I don't think he will be… "

* * *

Bond was crawling like an animal towards the two remaining SAS. He had been gobsmacked at Batman's skill as he had ensnared two of them without the others noticing.

Pilot officer Davis was sleeping behind a tree. Well, sleeping is probably the wrong sort of word. When Bruce's back had been turned Bond had knocked him out quickly and efficiently.

He told himself it was so that wouldn't give away their position, but really it was to stop him talking.

In front of him was Oz.

He leapt from the jungle like a cat and pounced on Oz, punching him once with his pistol. This knocked Oz to the ground where he lay not moving.

CLICK!

Bond stopped. "Don't move, slime. I've got you in the cross hairs."

Bond froze, hardly breathing, trying to work out where the voice had come from.

"Lemme see those thumbs." He could feel a muzzle grinding in his neck. "That's it, nice. Drop the gun." Bond left the gun on the ground. "Stand up. Nice and slow. Where's that American gone, pal?"

Bond shrugged.

Kirby lowered the gun towards Bond's feet. "Have you ever seen someone's feet blown off with one of these, mate?"

CLICK!

"Neither have I," said Kirby, licking his lips. "I've always wanted to. You have five seconds to tell me where that Yankee and the pilot are or I start shooting off your toes one by one…"

* * *

Alfred had parked the wrecked Batmobile round the corner and dragged Tim out of the car. They staggered up to the huge imposing building. He looked worriedly behind him. The streets were virtually deserted. Most people had fled to the countryside to avoid the strange contagion.

The police, fire department, and hospitals were about the only workers still in the city. The place had an eerie, almost ghostly quality to it.

"Come on lad. We'll be safe in here. Not even Mr Alvey will dare to break into the Gotham Police Station. I hope," he added fervently.

There was a policeman at the front door armed with a shotgun. "All civilians are being evacuated, sir."

"No you don't understand…"

"If you are sick I recommend the hospital."

"Please just let us in!"

A car came careening round the corner and mounted the steps. It screeched to a halt centimetres from the cowering Alfred.

The door was kicked off the car and Alvey erupted from the car.

Alvey roared and made a grab for Alfred.

BANG!

The policeman blasted Alvey back down the steps.

"That won't stop him! We need sanctuary!"

"Get inside," growled the policeman. He clicked the smoking cartridge out the gun and reloaded another.

BANG!

Alfred dragged the weakened Tim into the building. He had been here several times with Master Bruce.

One of the officers inside recognised him. "Alfred Pennyworth, isn't it? You work for Mr Wayne?" said Detective Renee Montoya. She was a young pretty officer. Alfred was happy to see a familiar face.

"Yes it is," said Alfred.

BANG!

"What is going on out there?"

"Damian Alvey has some sort of superpowers! He is trying to kill us!"

"Get back there, Alfred," said Montoya, talking into her communicator. "Commisioner, this is Montoya."

"What is it Montoya?" crackled the familiar voice of Gordon.

"We gotta problem down here, sir."

The steel door burst off the hinges and Alvey, his shotgun wounds healing as they looked, burst in to the station.

"A big problem!"


	23. A hot time in the old jungle

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Twenty-Three**

Damian Alvey walked into the police station. He had no need to look around. Not now.

The nano-droids that were repairing the shotgun wounds to his chest were feeding him information all about the police station. There was not a person there he was not aware of.

Not a person there who was not dying from the nano-droid plague he was carrying.

The boy Tim was dying slowly as were all of them. However if he concentrated on any one person, then the nano-droids would kill quickly.

A police officer raised a gun to him and Alvey concentrated on him. He could feed every single nano-droid into every cell of his body. The man collapsed in front of him.

He saw Alfred and Tim make their escape deeper into the station.

He chuckled to himself. They could not escape him. They were both dying slowly now. He controlled their lives in the palm of his hand. If he willed it now he could kill both of them as easily as squashing a fly.

A police officer raised a shotgun to him and he grabbed it and crushed it. Alvey froze as an image appeared in his vision. Speen. The killer of his family. If it weren't for him he would have a normal life. A happy life. He was tempted to send in a stream of nano-droids to kill him now.

No. That was the easy way. He would kill him hand to hand. Make him beg for his life and then tear his soul away from him piece by piece.

The door to the holding cells in the police station was reinforced steel. It might as well have been paper as he tore through it.

Speen would pay for this…

* * *

Batman looked at his arm. He slowly moved a hand towards his arm that was crawling with poisonous spiders.

He controlled his breathing and movement. The spiders were still crawling unhurriedly up his arm. With his free hand he gently flicked off one of the spiders.

One was just approaching his sleeve. He pressed his sleeve down to stop it crawling further up his arm and flicked it off as well.

The remaining spider sensed something was wrong and prepared to bite him. Milliseconds before the venom would have got into his veins Batman picked it up accidentally squashing it as he did.

He examined the threat curiously and looked down at Bond who was facing off with Kirby. .

He gave himself a rare smile and flicked the spider into space…

Kirby pointed the gun at Bond's feet and then screamed as a small brown spider landed on his arm. Bond kicked at Kirby, disarming him and then punched him solidly in the jaw.

Batman landed next to Bond, light as a feather.

"Any problems?" Asked Batman.

"No not really."

"Where's Davies?"

"He's eerrm, sleeping," said Bond.

"Sleeping? Really?"

Bond grinned. "Well, he is now."

Batman immediately looked up, on his face a look of concentration.

"What is it?"

"Helicopters," said Batman. "We'd better get out of here."

"I'll get Davies." Bond ran through the trees and picked up the still sleeping pilot.

Batman was standing there. "Sleeping eh?"

Bond looked slightly shifty. "He was tired."

"The knock on the head happened afterwards, did it?"

"Possibly." He looked at his watch. "We've got under six hours to go."

One of the helicopters passed overhead and a small canister left it. It span in midair and a strange sticky liquid was sprayed over the jungle behind them.

BOOM!

The jungle erupted in flames behind them.

More helicopters passed overhead and flames began to leap and dance up all around them.

* * *

Speen opened one bleary eye as a crashing and screaming sound invaded his hearing.

Somebody was coming.

Somebody strong.

Judging by the screaming sounds he was not in the best of tempers either. Speen slowly got to his feet. The aspirins were doing their work and the top of his head no longer felt like a small but industrious midget was trying to remove it with a tin opener.

BANG!

The steel door in front of them buckled under the force.

Dane was sweating with fear. "Who the hell is that, Mr Speen?"

BANG!

"Did you order a pizza?"

"No," Dane shuddered. "I'm scared, Mr Speen."

"Relax, boy. There is nothing we can do now. You should only be scared if you have a choice." Speen thought for a moment, his expression calm and motionless, compared with the fear-struck features of Dane. "It might be room service?"

BANG!

"I don't think it's room service, Mr Speen!"

BANG!

Speen looked over the cell with interest. "Shame, although to be honest it does need it. I mean the staff here do not care about their work."

BANG! Crack.

"They haven't even turned over the ends of the toilet paper."

BANG! CRACK!

He sniffed a couple of times. "They haven't even used air fresheners in this place." He ran a finger down the side of the steel bed.

BANG! CRACK! CRACK!

"Look at this dust!"

The door cracked down the middle and a furious Alvey was framed in the ruins. "SPEEN! YOU DIE!"

Speen gave a smile. "Good morning! You must be the maid. I don't like to complain but this place hasn't been dusted in a dog's age."

Alvey reached through the battered remains of the door and tried to grab Speen by the throat.

Dane grabbed Alvey round the neck as he was concentrating on Speen and then collapsed, going a strange mottled red colour as Alvey sent a concentrated stream of nano-droids into him to kill him.

"Dane? Dane my boy?" Speen went pale as he looked down. "You've killed him! You bastard!" Using his artificial arm he punched Alvey squarely on the chin and sent him flying out of his cell. He landed with such force on the door opposite him that the door caved in around him.

Speen leapt out of the ruined doorway and punched Alvey again as he struggled to get to his feet.

"Bastard!"

His titanium alloy arm gave him a great strength and his every strike was conducted by a series of processors all running on a thin filigree of gold circuits giving him unparalleled strength and lightning speed.

"Bastard!" he spat again at Alvey, punching him again and again. Alvey was being pushed back farther and farther down the cell corridor, each punch throwing him back ten feet and warping his features beyond measure.

Speen was beyond fury. Beyond anger and in a hell of his own making. He was rarely angry. In his job being angry meant you got involved, and when you got involved you got careless, and when you got careless you died.

Speen was angry. Speen was getting involved. Speen was getting careless.

"Bastard!" He spat out the invective. True, he told himself he did not care about Dane, and he always put him down and made fun of him, but he was a friend, and in his business friends were a rare commodity.

Each punch was breaking and crunching Alvey's bones.

Were Alvey still human they would have killed him. They would have killed him many times over.

Alvey was not human.

Far from it.

He grabbed Speen's arm and crashed him into a wall.

Speen was stunned; a lesser man would have collapsed at the blow, and only his anger and adrenaline made him carry on fighting. Blood was pouring down his face from his broken nose and he carried on punching Alvey.

Alvey was weakening from the blows. Each time Speen punched him the blows took that little bit longer to repair. He concentrated on Speen.

"Bastard!" said Speen. But he was weakening himself. The nano-droids were infecting him. It was a war of attrition, which of them could survive the most damage.

He punched again at Alvey, trying to knock him out. The punches that would have made a hole through a brick wall and felled a prizefighter were starting to lose their power.

Alvey's face was a rictus of blood. As Speen looked at him his nose straightened out and his skull reformed to the proper shape.

Speen was weakening. He lunged once more at Alvey, but he was slow and the other man caught his metal arm with one hand and ripped his artificial arm from him.

Speen screamed with pain as the wires that ran up to his brain were pulled from him. The last thing he saw before he died was Alvey's fist beating down at him…

* * *

Bond and Bruce Wayne ran through the jungle as if the very gates of hell had been opened behind them, and in a sense they had been.

Napalm as a weapon was first created in the Second World War. It was found that gasoline burnt itself out too quickly to be an effective incendiary device. What the military wanted was a substance that burnt just as easily but was slower burning.

They found it.

In spades.

It was a mixture of naphthenic and aliphatic carboxylic acids and gasoline. This made it more directional and slower burning. Regiments that stood firm in the face of bullets and shells ran in fear when faced with this weapon that could boil water or scorch people to death from dozens of feet away.

It burns at a temperature of 1000 degrees centigrade, and although the United Nations banned this horrific substance in 1980, sadly Mr Blofeld and his cohorts were not invited to sign this agreement.

Blofeld had stockpiles of this weapon.

Although to be fair to him he was trying to get rid of it as soon as possible. It was unfortunate for James Bond and Bruce Wayne that he had chosen the particular patch of jungle they were running through to offload it in.

The leaves crackled, hissed and burned around them as they ran from the conflagration behind them. The flames were a hundred feet away but the temperature travelled.

Oh yes, it travelled. Above their heads parrots fell dead from the sky and monkeys slipped from their perch as they roasted.

Bond and Wayne ran on, their very clothes smouldering.

"We're going too damn slow!" said Bond, patting at clothes as they started to smoulder.

Batman grabbed Bond and pulled out a grappling gun. "Hang on!"

The grappling claw buried itself into a tree a hundred feet away and the motor whined as it carried all three of them into the air and they swung through the trees.

The area they just left exploded in flames. As they reached the top of the arc Bond reached down to his belt for his own grappling hook and pointed it at the nearest helicopter that was chasing them down.

The grappling hook buried itself into the armoured metal base of the helicopter and carried Bond high up through the canopy, tearing him through the leaves and branches, towards the metal dealer of death.

Bond looked behind him and could see the jungle was a mass of flame. He grabbed hold of the support strut and looked up to see a huge machine gun pointing out the side.

He looked at the second helicopter and could see that Batman had dropped Davies and was just pulling himself up to that one as well.

He drew his gun from his holster and grinned to himself as the armoured military helicopter flew in circles dropping canister of napalm behind him. Beneath him was the jungle that had been turned into a furnace and above him was armoured helicopter filled with half a dozen heavily armed soldiers.

He was about to prove why he was the best in the business…

* * *

Thirty-five miles from Gotham is an old hotel in a run down suburb of a small village called Lawrenceville, named after a French officer who helped the Americans against the English in the Civil War.

It's the kind of town that if you want some milk after 7 pm you might as well drive the thirty-five miles back to Gotham. You could call it a one-horse town but the horse would have died of boredom years ago.

People were always surprised that anyone would build a hotel in such a town. They never got any tourists or even anyone on business trips; it was so far off the beaten track. The old hotel still got a steady stream of visitors though, much to the bemusement of the locals.

They would have been more surprised if they knew that the hotel was not a hotel but a front for a technologically advanced but highly secretive government department called Cadmus. This curious name (named from the founder of Thebes) hides an organisation with huge amounts of information and alien technology.

Information on heroes past and present.

In some cases where they have successfully obtained it, the DNA of heroes.

The nano-droids had poured into this building. The people who manned it had evacuated the place due to the nano plague. The nanos got into computer systems. Rifled through data files and found the equivalent of gold. Twenty-four carat gold.

Superman's DNA.

When he was presumed killed by the Doomsday monster, Cadmus brought his body to be examined and to have his DNA extracted. They weren't completely successful but with what they had they could make a man capable of flying.

Super strength.

Bullet proof.

Impervious to physical harm.

They fed this information back to the nanos in Alvey and they immediately begin to work on his DNA…

Alvey got to his feet after killing Speen and Dane, and smiled to himself. He felt a great strength fill his body. A policeman started shooting at him. He could see the bullets approach him seemingly at a snail's pace. It was a matter of ease to bat one of them out of the way with his hand. The others he just let hit him. It did not seem to matter anymore.

Instead of the bullets pushing him back and him having to wait several agonising seconds for the healing to start, the bullets bounced off him.

He seemed to blur and the policeman was thrown thirty feet out of the station entrance and through a fifth floor window across the street.

He concentrated and could see all the people in the police station. They were all dying, all of them. He could see Alfred and Tim on the second floor of the police station. Tim was unconscious and Alfred had started the sweats that indicated the start of the nano-plague. With just a thought he could send in the stream of nano-droids to kill them, or send a heat beam to pulverise them.

Suddenly a new image appeared in front of him. There were millions of nano-droids being held in a magnetic containment field in Colombia. They were showing him images.

Blofeld.

Speen had just been a puppet of Blofeld. He would turn Gotham into a wasteland first and then release his creatures in Colombia.

More images appeared in front of him. The nano-droids were destroying the cruise missile capabilities of American submarines. More and moreinformation appeared in his brain, including about his new skills.

He could fly now.

Curiously that information did not surprise him.

Blofeld had the power to kill the nano-droids in Gotham. A picture appeared in his mind of Bond and Batman fighting soldiers in a helicopter. They were going to stop Blofeld and prevent his revenge on Gotham.

The world would pay for what it had done to him and now he had the power to demand payback. In full.

He could leave Gotham to his multiplying nano-droids. Now he would hunt down Bond, Batman and Blofeld. Blofeld would have an exquisite death.

Alvey walked into the streets of Gotham, his every step crushing the paving slabs beneath him to dust. He bent his legs and leapt into the air with the speed of a missile towards Colombia and vengeance…

* * *

The wind was whistling past Batman as he clung onto the underside of the helicopter. The heat from the furnace below was carrying huge great sparks and even some twigs that were on fire. The blades of the helicopter were setting up a huge vortex below him, making it difficult to hang on, and the heated air made it difficult to breathe.

Don't complain. Just do it.

He grabbed the support strut and swung himself into the helicopter.

A bullet whistled over his head as he landed in the aircraft. The four men inside, all scarred and carrying AK47's skittered back in fear as he came in. Good, they were afraid of him. With the flames surrounding them and his black mask it looked like the devil had come to claim his progeny.

The men were all veterans of FARC (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia) before Blofeld took them under his wing. One of them aimed his gun at Batman but a black booted foot caught him in the stomach and sent him back coughing.

The pilot looked back at what had just landed in the back of his helicopter and swore in fear. A pulse of heat from the furnace below knocked the helicopter sideways and made him jerk on the controls, sending it spinning.

The changing centre of gravity made standing on the deck impossible for all but Batman. The helicopter swayed and swung. One moment the floor was like a wall and below was just the hell that was the jungle.

There was a small patch of unburnt jungle below that Batman could see where he had left Davies, on a rock in the middle of a large stream. An oasis in the middle of the fire storm.

A terrified thug dropped out below him. Batman let go of his hold in the helicopter and grabbed the man and threw him back into the now quieter helicopter and swung himself easily back in.

One of the men, who had somehow kept hold of his gun, fired his AK47 at Batman. He twisted impossibly in the small space and rolled around the heavy machine gun strapped into the side of the helicopter, kicking the gun out of his hand.

The helicopter lurched to one side.

Batman knocked out the thug and quickly tied him to the other unconscious men.

The engine of the helicopter started groaning in mortal agony.

Batman looked at the pilot. The back of his seat had a small hole in it but the windscreen was covered in blood showing him the story.

The helicopter started its inexorable death dive towards the furnace below…


	24. Planes, helicopters and stingers

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Twenty-Four**

The only sign of nervousness Blofeld showed was a slight twitch of his hand. His cat, the only thing he truly loved, hissed at him at this sign of nervousness. The screens in front of him were showing an ever-changing vista of the security cameras outside. His men were dealing with Bond and Batman, or at least he hoped they were.

He knew from bitter experience that Bond was not an easy man to put into his grave. Unbidden, his hand went to the scar down the side of his face that Bond had put there.

He still woke up shaking from the memories of that time.

Bond had been a beaten man. His men were busy torturing information out of him when he had somehow escaped the chamber, killed the guards and damn near killed him. The drugs he had pumped into Bond's system had affected his aim. If it weren't for that, Blofeld would just be another closed case in Bond's file.

A satellite map of America was showing the extent of the nano-droid plague. A blinking orange circle was superimposed above them to show the area of control they had. They were approaching the edge of it.

There was something beautiful about the map and its colours. A man-made contagion spreading fear and death indiscriminately. His cat tried to jump down but he grabbed it by the scruff of the neck to stop it and it glared at him.

Even the pain of the cat's claws digging into his leg could not stop the joy he felt.

"Isn't it wonderful?" he said to his technicians monitoring the plague.

"Yes sir," they said in a monotone voice. They all knew what happened to dissenting voices in his organisation and they were not willing to join them.

There would be people dying because of Blofeld soon, that he knew, but he did not feel anything for them. You might as well feel for an insect you squash beneath your boot or a germ you kill when you clean the kitchen.

To seek an ideal world you always need to scour away the dead wood. According to Blofeld, there were just three kinds of people. People you could use to further the cause, enemies of the cause, and everyone else.

Few people in Blofeld's experience fitted into the first category, a lot of the second category had been killed or converted to the first category, and to be honest Blofeld cared less about the third category than he did about what he had for breakfast yesterday.

Bond and Batman fitted perfectly into the ever-shrinking second category and would soon be killed, slowly. "And they deserve it!" he said out loud. A couple of his men glanced over at this outburst but then immediately looked down.

One of his men looked at him for a millisecond longer than was sensible and was invisibly pushed from the first category to the second category.

He stroked his cat again, who realised he wasn't going anywhere, started to purr loudly. The morning sun pierced through a stone window above him and illuminated him in sunlight.

It was turning into a beautiful day.

* * *

The helicopter's engine was emitting a screaming, grinding noise as it fell towards the burning earth like a wounded pterodactyl of old.

The helicopter was spinning wildly. In the gap in the spin Batman could see Bond's helicopter. Bond had had more success than he had in taking over the helicopter and was flying it towards Batman's helicopter.

He grabbed the two thugs he had knocked out and, using his grappling hook, waited for the perfect opportunity to attach to Bond's helicopter.

Damn!

The helicopter lurched to one side as it hit a burning tree, reducing his options to one. He leapt out of the burning helicopter and with awe inspiring skill grabbed a burning branch with one hand.

In his other hand he was holding two tied up thugs by a tensile cord. The thugs were heavy and the cord dug into his hand. The flames on the branch were starting to burn through his protective gloves and the branch would not hold forever.

Beneath him the jungle was a mass of flames and the helicopter was slowly falling into hell. The blades were giving it enough lift for Batman to see exactly where it would fall.

Bond was flying his helicopter towards Batman. With incredible skill he was avoiding the tongues of flame that leapt skywards, threatening to drag his aircraft down.

Would he get to him in time?

Batman's gloves were flameproof but they could not protect against the heat for long, and the branch was creaking and cracking.

Crack.

BOOM!

The branch cracked, spilling him downwards. Below, the helicopter exploded sending a wave of heat, flame and jagged metal up at him. With his one free hand he fired a grappling hook at the door of Bond's helicopter and winched himself up out of the furnace he was in.

His shoulder blades were starting to compress together as the force of carrying two thugs and the strain of being pulled up to the helicopter started to tell. He filed away the pain as something to consider later and dropped gratefully inside Bond's helicopter.

He dropped the two unconscious thugs inside the helicopter and immediately took in a few details.

Several bullet holes decorated the inside of the helicopter and patches of blood showed an all too familiar story. He clenched his jaw. This was Bond's way, not his way.

He stalked into the cockpit to where Bond was sitting, flying the helicopter like he was born to it. The gusts of hot air and flame from below would have sent a lesser pilot to the grave by now.

Bond grinned at him as he walked into the cockpit. "Glad to see you could make it."

"And you. Any problems?" he said, looking around at the empty helicopter.

Bond patted his shoulder holster. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Did you have to…" Batman struggled to find the words.

"Kill them?" said Bond. "These men were not children. They were soldiers wanting to kill me. Kill us. They knew the risks. I can't afford to play your game out here, Bruce; there are too many lives at stake. If we fail, a city dies."

Batman shook his head. Now was not the time to get into a philosophical debate about the sanctity of life. "Let's get Davies back in and go."

Bond shook his head. "The flames will die down soon. He'll be safer out there than with us, believe me."

"What do you mean?"

Bond chuckled to himself. "Do you think this is the only welcoming committee Blofeld has planned for us?" They were out of the flames, the burning part of the jungle behind them, and skimming so low that Bruce could almost touch the branches below them. "If I know Ernst he'll save his big guns for last." He looked back with distaste at the two tied up thugs. "We'll drop off those men first before we attack."

"Attack with what? What weapons have we got?"

"Us."

* * *

A man was flying high above the clouds. Below him, the clouds were rolling like they were on a conveyor belt, but it was not them that was moving, it was him.

Behind him the clouds parted like the wake of a ship on a clear lake. Thousands of feet below him the sonic boom was heard by passing ships in the Atlantic and people wondered what was passing above them.

Since the passing of the Concorde, sonic booms over the Atlantic were a rarity so most people assumed it was the big blue. The Boy Scout. Superman.

They were wrong.

Dead wrong.

Damian Alvey had been given Superman's powers by the nano-droids that even now were busy altering him on the molecular level.

As he flew towards Bond and Batman he was being fed information about Blofeld and the two heroes. He flew past a Pan Am jet and turned back to look through the portholes.

The temperature was near freezing at that altitude and the oxygen content was minimal. It did not bother him. Not now. He was beyond such mortal concerns.

He tailed the jet for a while and then flew next to it. He caught up to a wing and stood on it. The plane was flying at over 600 mph; it should be impossible to stand on it.

Impossible was not a word that Alvey lived by.

Not any more.

He grinned, frost forming on his face as he walked up the wing, each footstep imprinting a step into the metal. People were jostled out of their watching of "The Transporter 2" on the plane's screens and were watching death walking up the wing towards them.

The slipstream was dragging his long coat behind him like a cape.

All these people. And he held their lives in his hand. He eyes warmed as he considered using his heat vision to blast this insolent plane from the sky.

* * *

Blofeld was disturbed from his reverie by the insistent voice.

"Sir," the technician said again. One of his hands was hovering above his boss's shoulder to wake him. The man had not dared touch him, though. "Sir," he repeated. "Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you really should take a look at this."

"What is it?" he said irritably. "Have we heard back from the UN yet?"

"No sir," he said. "They have another two hours to agree to your demands. As per your request we have been monitoring air traffic in the area. We've picked up this strange message from Pan Am flight 5524, a scheduled flight from Washington to Cartagena."

A voice crackled over the airwaves. "This is the Pan Am flight from Washington. Our squawk code is 5524 and our ETA is one hour thirty minutes. Please confirm our landing window."

There was a gap of a few seconds. "That's a roger, ground control. We are fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. You want us in a holding pattern for fifteen minutes." There was a muffled affirmative from the control tower. "That's a roger, ground control."

There were more crackling sounds. "What the hell?"

More crackling sounds. "Control, this is 5524; we have a man standing on the wing."

More crackling sounds. "No, that's not pilot talk for being out of chicken curry or having to resort to showing golf on the internal televisions, we have a man standing on the wing!"

There was a swearing sound. "Damn it, control, he is walking up the wing!" There was more noise and more swearing from the pilot. "God damn it! He is a meta human of some kind. He's like Superman or something, but he sure don't look like a hero! Jeez, his eyes are glowing red, he's going to kill us all!"

* * *

It would be too easy to kill them.

Blow this plane from the sky.

Create more widows and families grieving for their loss.

No.

Not today. Or not this day at any rate. His revenge was against Blofeld, not all the world. He let the slipstream catch him and send him tumbling towards the earth.

He fell a thousand feet and then concentrated as he flew like an avenging angel towards Blofeld's lair.

* * *

Blofeld shrugged. "So there is a meta-human out there. Last I heard Colombia had no meta-humans to speak of."

"Look at the radar, sir." There was a green spot approaching his base. "This meta-human is heading straight towards us."

Blofeld jabbed a finger at the radar. "What's that?" A dot flickered for a millisecond and then disappeared.

"What? Nothing, sir. Sometimes the radar picks up stray readings. It is probably a flock of birds or something."

The dot appeared again. Closer this time. "That's no flock of birds." Blofeld jabbed a finger down on the radar screen again, this time cracking the screen. "It's a helicopter trying to fly under the radar." Blofeld grabbed the hapless technician round the neck with one hand and started to squeeze. "It's Bond. Your carelessness will cost you your life."

Blofeld pushed the coughing man over and kicked him viciously in the stomach. "You have not heard the last of this."

"Sir!"

Blofeld span around and glared at the man who was speaking.

"Permission to activate stinger missiles, sir."

"Do it. Now! Destroy that helicopter and blow that damn meta-human from the sky."

"Sir, meta-humans are notoriously difficult to kill, maybe we should use the…"

Blofeld smiled. His face was not improved by the effort. "The nano-droids can eat what the missiles leave behind. Kill them. Kill them all."

* * *

Bond and Batman's helicopter was flying through a jungle chasm as far under the radar as they could. The blades of the aircraft were practically scraping against the rock either side. Every now and then the chasm was too narrow even for Bond's prodigious piloting skills and they erupted above the surface of the jungle like a dolphin leaping above the water before they could dive down again.

The last time they surfaced they could see the stone pyramids of Blofeld's lair, tantalisingly close.

_'Ping, ping.'_

"What's that?" asked Bruce.

"They've got a missile lock on us."

"Do we have any chaff?"

"We don't even have any party balloons." Bond jerked back fiercely on the control stick and pulled the helicopter into a spin.

In the distance could be seen the tell-tale puff of smoke as two missiles hurtled towards them. A further two missiles leapt into the sky and disappeared into the distance.

Bond didn't have the luxury of time to consider what they could be hunting.

The helicopter creaked and groaned as he took the aircraft in back-breaking twists and turns it was not designed for.

He took the helicopter into a jungle clearing and flew it up the narrow gorge.

Behind him the missiles roared up the chasm towards him. In a stomach-lurching manoeuvre he cut the power to the blades and the helicopter dropped twenty feet in a second and nearly crashed into some rocks.

He powered it back up again and the missiles overshot their mark. The missiles tried to turn around but the gorge was too narrow and one of them scraped against the side, sending it exploding against rock face. The chasm was a mass of flying metal splinters for a second and the other missile erupted from the heat and flame of the explosion towards the helicopter.

The engine strained against the pressure Bond was putting against it. He tried to turn it but it was slow.

Too slow.

The missile slammed into the helicopter…


	25. Flesh eating grubs

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Twenty-Five**

Blofeld turned to one of his men. "Send out a patrol to the crashed helicopter and bring me back their bodies."

"Sir!" The soldier turned to three other men. They were all in jungle fatigues and looked dangerous. "Alpha squad, you're with me. I'll take point. Keep in radio contact." He turned back to Blofeld. "We'll be back before you know it, sir."

"Good."

One of his technicians spoke up. "Sir, the missiles we sent after the meta-human have disappeared!"

"What, they've exploded?"

"I assume so," the technician looked baffled. "The meta-human has disappeared from the radar but I could swear the missiles disappeared before they hit him."

"Who the hell was that meta-human?"

"He is not appearing on our database of known meta-humans but we were getting garbled reports of some kind of super being loose in Gotham…"

"Who?"

"The police station said they were under attack from Damian Alvey before they were cut off…"

"Damian Alvey?" Blofeld looked baffled. "I thought Speen said he killed him."

"He did, sir, and that is something else. The transmitter we had fitted into Speen's artificial arm has stopped functioning. He was in the police station at the time of the report."

"And now Batman and Bond are at my door…"

"Yes sir."

"The transmitter would only stop working if Speen was dead, wouldn't it?"

"Yes sir."

"Good."

A huge seven-foot man loomed into view.

Jaws, the metal-toothed assassin, walked up to Blofeld.

"Good," said Blofeld. "You have returned from Gotham. Have you got the…" He looked at Jaws' face. There was a scratch mark down the side of his face and his arm was bandaged as well. Blood was just seeping out of the wound. "Package?" He chuckled to himself.

Jaws nodded, although he winced a bit as he walked, showing he had a few more bruises than were showing.

"Lively little one, isn't she?" said Blofeld. "If Bond and Batman somehow survive their jungle experience she'll be a good hostage."

The radio crackled into life. "Command centre, this is Alpha one, we have reached the crash site…"

"Report."

"The helicopter is wrecked and burning sir," said the voice. "Nothing could live in there. Alpha two and three, circle round the helicopter wreck and check for tracks."

"Yes sir."

Four monitors flickered into life above Blofeld showing him what his soldiers were seeing. Flames were licking up the side of the blackened wreckage and pouring smoke into the pristine sky of the tropical rain forest.

Two of the cameras started running round the other side of the helicopter.

"No sign of anything round here sir."

Blofeld spoke. "Look inside the cockpit."

"Yes sir," crackled the voice. "Alpha four, check out the cockpit."

"Yes sir." One of the monitors showed a camera approaching the flaming cockpit. "I can't see…" A black shape loomed above the camera for a fraction of a second before it flickered and died.

"Alpha four, come in," crackled a voice. "Alpha four, report, damn it!"

"What's going on?" asked Blofeld.

"We've lost Alpha four. Alpha three, see what the hell he is doing. He probably tripped over a root or something…"

Blofeld approached Alpha three's monitor with a morbid curiosity. The monitor crackled and died but not before Blofeld saw the face of James Bond. He physically staggered back at the shock of seeing his nemesis. Bond's face was dark and handsome but still a killer's face, and he was merciless and ruthless as a foe. He only looked at the camera for a fraction of a second but his eyes seemed to bore straight into Blofeld's eyes and rip out his black soul.

And now he was here in the jungle with the Batman, a man steeped in legend. If even half the stories about the Batman were true…

Blofeld looked around at his base, his eyes nearly rolling in his sockets. His heavily armed guards, gun towers and missile launchers, far from looking effective, looked as threatening as a damp lettuce leaf.

Control yourself.

It is only one man…

Well, two men.

And they are both mortal.

They can both bleed.

They can both die.

Alpha two's voice crackled over the airwaves. "God damn it, I see it, it looks like…" His screen crackled and died as well.

Blofeld spoke out. "Alpha one! Get back here! Get back now!"

"That's an affirmative sir, returning to…" His monitor crackled and died as well but not before he saw Bond and a demonic looking Batman standing next to each other. The Batman seemed to twitch and the camera crackled and died. He didn't even see what he did to the man…

Blofeld turned to his military commander. "Triple the guards. Seal this place down. Jaws, you are my personal guard. If Bond or Batman appears, kill them."

Jaws had been watching the four guards taken down in seconds by Bond and Batman and, far from scaring him, he actually chuckled at it. At last a challenge worthy of him. The huge man nodded once at this and cracked his huge knuckles together. His metallic teeth glinted in the light.

Many stories were told about how Jaws lost his teeth. Tales of fights against heavyweight champions as a child, how he lost his teeth to KGB torture masters. How he was the result of cruel experimentation from his CIA overlords…

The truth was much more mundane, as often it is…

As a child he had a poor diet and got scurvy and hence lost his teeth.

The story of how he got his metal teeth was much more interesting.

The Group of the Red Scorpion, a small faction of South African assassins with a flair for dramatic names, found the boy Jaws, a boy to their mind with a wonderful capacity for violence and a lack of the moral guidelines that most people live by, and after many months of painful surgery fitted his ravaged mouth with titanium teeth and reinforced his bones with titanium to increase his strength and hitting power.

It would be unfair to say they created a monster, but they certainly gave him fangs. Unfortunately for them the first people he tried them out on was them.

He was very effective.

This seven-foot unstoppable killer soon got the attention of some of the bigger terrorist groups in the world, and he found he could make serious money killing professionally. Which is why Blofeld employed him.

A rumbling sound started, nearly knocking Blofeld off his feet. The lights flickered and several monitors sparked about him.

"Seal the control centre," said Blofeld. Huge two-foot thick steel doors hissed down. Hugely thick steel shutters came sliding down over the windows. The whole place was hermetically sealed and they got their air from an internal supply. Not even a nano-droid could enter the control centre without them knowing about it. "Look alert." Blofeld pointed at the huge steel gate, he was breathing deeply to control his shakes. "I want anything that comes through that door dead."

* * *

Bond had a blood-stained bandage wrapped round one arm. Batman had pushed them both through the glass of the cockpit milliseconds before it exploded behind him. He himself had burnt his left arm. It still stung and he had a patch like sandpaper next to his elbow, but he was fortunate to be alive. His cape had several burns and rents in it as he had used it to protect Bond and himself from the explosion.

Bond shrugged and tried not to look concerned. "That's your plan?"

"Got a better one?"

"Not at the moment. Okay, I'll either see you in an hour's time or in hell…"

"Remember don't…"

"I know, don't kill anyone." Bond shook his head. "I don't know how you got your reputation as the bogeyman of Gotham. Singing out of key?"

Batman climbed up the lianas of the jungle tree as easily as if it was a skyscraper in Gotham's lower east side. He even clambered past a monkey suckling its young without disturbing them.

Bond was covering the ground level. He had told him the trees were strictly for the monkeys.

At least all the guards were alive…

From here he could see Blofeld's base. It was a huge stone pyramid covered in jungle creepers and ferns. A parrot flew lazily past Batman's face, the beat of its wings giving Batman a much-needed breeze.

It was hot out here.

The air was like being stuck in a Turkish bath.

Once, as a child, Bruce had been playing hide and seek and had hidden in an airing cupboard in Wayne Manor; the temperature was like that here. All his friends from his eighth birthday party had been there.

It had been a good spot.

A great spot indeed.

It had taken his friends twenty minutes to find him. In fact it had taken Alfred to find him actually. It was just a shame he missed the jelly and ice cream though.

The temperature was just like that here. Hot. Humid. Sweaty. Rivulets of sweat poured down his back. Huge insects skittered away from his progress, their huge antennae waving frantically at his passing.

He checked his watch.

Less than two hours to go before people started dying in Gotham.

They had to get in there and shut it down now. He looked below and could see Bond walk towards the base.

Bond looked just at home in the jungle as he did in the casino where he had first seen him. In seconds Bond had disappeared from sight. Now he just had to be patient.

He was good at the patience game normally.

If there was a criminal he was waiting for he could wait for hours normally.

Today was not a normal day. Gotham was suffering. Tim was suffering and near death. He had lost one Robin; he could not, would not countenance another.

Alfred and Dick had been surprised when he had taken on another Robin. What would the loss of another of his charges do to him, they had said?

He had just said in his gruff voice that he needed a partner. Someone to watch his back and maybe someone to pick up the cape when he retired.

But that wasn't true. He was like a boy pulling at a scab to see if it would bleed. He needed to show to himself that it hadn't changed him. That he could look after another Robin, that the first death had not affected him.

The scars ran deep though. Maybe not like a bullet or a knife wound. His soul had already been twisted by the murder of his parents; the murder of Jason Todd cracked it and he might never truly be healed.

He might never truly heal but at least he could reach atonement in some small way, to his mind, by taking criminals off the street to stop them forming another monster like him. His eyes took in the pyramid in the distance. Over there was a criminal against humanity and he would face justice.

A thunderclap boomed around him and the trees shook around him, dropping a shower of dead leaves and small insects.

That was no thunder. A cloud of black smoke plumed above the trees. The staccato chatter of a machine gun broke the air. The strange oddly muted sound of an AK47 belying its lethality.

Several others broke out in the area.

Batman had already left his perch and was swinging through the trees towards the pyramid.

This was what he was born for and despite what he thought, the deaths had not twisted his soul, just shaped his purpose. Even if he had had a happy normal childhood with his parents he would still be here today. Some people seek justice no matter how many or how few injustices had happened in their life.

Several monkeys saw his shape and skittered away in fear. They might not have seen him before but they recognised a predator when they saw it.

Below him he could see Bond calmly loosing off a couple of shots towards the guards. He was sitting behind the buttress roots of a huge tree. He might have been sipping a martini for all the fear he showed. Bullets were chewing up the side of the tree, sending splinters flying.

The diversion was working, though. Bond was drawing guards like wasps round jam. They had agreed that Bond would cause as much destruction and mayhem as possible whilst Batman infiltrated the base and found a way to stop the nano-droids.

Didn't mean he wouldn't need a bit of help. Batman sent two drug tipped darts to fell two guards as he passed.

He had blown up one of the helicopters in the landing area.

BOOM!

Another helicopter exploded sending oily black smoke into the sky. Bond used the opportunity to sneak through the line of guards attempting to outflank him and run further into the jungle.

There was a rumbling sound.

Jeez, they even had a tank here. Blofeld had a regular little army. The sound of the heavy machine gun on the tank was drowned out by the whistling sound of the shell.

The shell bounced and scraped off several trees before exploding in a shower of a flame and metal splinters in the distance.

Bruce smiled to himself; Bond would lead them a merry dance whilst he went for the piper. He landed with panther-like grace on the roof of the pyramid and crawled down the side of the building.

As silent as a shadow, he crept into the building. The corridor looked dark compared with the bright sunlight outside. An alarm sounded as he entered and a door slid shut behind him with a permanent-sounding thud.

He cursed to himself. A simple motion detector alarm system. His entry was not as quiet as he had planned. He heard the sound of several boots running down the corridor. A quick flick of his wrist sent a batarang to smash the one bulb in the corridor.

"He's killed the lights! Switch to infrared. Kill anything that moves!"

The sparks from the broken light burnt images onto his retina for a few seconds, ruining his night vision. Batman stood behind a pillar while the guards ran towards him. He closed his eyes to better concentrate on the sound of running feet. There were three of them. Quite burly judging by the sounds. Wearing standard issue GI boots. The clanking sound revealed ammunition belts and guns.

Still with his eyes closed he sent a kick to the windpipe of one of the guards whilst simultaneously punching the second one into the path of the third.

They were all three down in just under two seconds. He slid his starlight lenses over his own eyes and looked down the corridor.

He had a few surprises of his own here. He roughly pulled up the sleeve of one of the unconscious guards. He pressed the artery down to make the veins stand out and jabbed in a small hypodermic he had in his tool belt.

He then got out something from his pack and put it on the man's head. In seconds the man was awake and jabbering like a man possessed.

In a sense he was.

He then crept down the corridor as silent as a ghost.

* * *

Jaws was watching the screens and grinned to himself. The heat vision showed a man creeping down the corridor dressed in a cape.

The Batman.

He lumbered to his feet and grabbed an M16 rifle on the table next to him. He pointed to two guards. "You two, follow me."

"Restore lights to the corridor," he said.

"Yes sir," said one of the technicians.

Jaws ran to the heavy reinforced doors at the entrance to the control room. They swished open and he ran into the complex.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins. He had never fought a costume before and he was looking forward to the battle. The doors opened in front of him until he reached where the Batman had last been spotted. But where he had been… Nothing.

"Control, this is Jaws, where is the Batman?"

"He was right there a moment ago sir."

Jaws gestured to the two guards. "Fan out. Find him."

A foot lanced out of the shadows to his to his side, next to a pillar, catching Jaws' hand a stinging blow and making him drop the gun. He adopted a defensive pose.

The two guards tried to defend themselves against him, but the masked man kicked their guns out of their hands and then punched one of them on the jaw whilst simultaneously kicking the other one in the stomach.

Jaws lashed out against him but the Batman ducked under the blow, seemingly with ease.

He tried again but it was like trying to hit a shadow. Jaws cursed loudly and fluently as a boot hit his knee, nearly toppling him. He used the momentum he got while falling to grab the Batman's cloak and slam him against the wall.

He was gratified to hear the sound of Batman's cry of shock at the force of the blow.

While Batman was still winded he picked him up by the throat with one huge hand and started throttling him.

"Jaws!" came a voice through his earpiece.

He ignored it. The Batman's face, what little he could see of it, was going red and mottled. "Jaws! Obey me Jaws!" It was Blofeld.

The big man dropped him contemptuously and he fell in a heap at his feet.

So much for the big bad Batman.

"Bring him to me, Jaws."

"Yes, sir," he said. Dropping as much contempt as he could into the last syllable.

He kicked the two guards none too gently to wake them up and dragged the Batman by his cloak behind him.

Blofeld was waiting for him. "You caught him. Excellent. Where is Bond?"

Jaws shrugged. The sound of shooting and explosions was disappearing into the distance. "Still playing catch with your men."

"String him up. See what he knows, then kill him."

Jaws smiled. "Best news I've heard all day." He grabbed Batman by the hands and handcuffed them.

Batman groaned and Jaws punched him again in the stomach and dragged him into one of the side rooms.

"You two guards follow me," he gestured at the two who had followed him earlier. They were still nursing bruises the masked man had given them earlier and they were not in the best of moods.

They walked into a dark dank room which had a strange smell of mildew and rotting meat in it. In the centre was a rusty chain with a hook that hooked through a metal loop

In the corner was a barrel. Its surface was a writhing mass of flesh eating maggots.

"Know what these are, Batboy?" said Jaws, pushing the masked man's face close to the surface of the barrel. "These are flesh eating maggots. Tell me where Bond is and what his plan is or I'll drop you in it. I've seen these things skin a man in thirty seconds."

"Hee! Hee!" Batman chuckled.

This was not the reaction he was expecting.

"You think I'm joking, Batboy?" Jaws picked Batman up by the neck and threw him against the table at the end of the room. The table smashed under the impact.

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" Batman laughed at him.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was one of the guards who had followed him. The other guard was lying unconscious at Bruce Wayne's feet. Jaws started to stagger. Bruce Wayne kept his hand on his shoulder. "Do you know what this is?" Bruce kept up the pressure. "It is the carotid artery that runs through your neck and supplies blood to your brain. Not even a man like you can sustain this for too long."

Jaws tried to flail out to stop the pressure but he was weakening and Bruce easily avoided the blows. With a final struggle Jaws collapsed unconscious to the floor. Bruce quickly chained the big man up and removed his cape from the luckless guard who had been impersonating him.

Under his cowl he had put one of the Mad Hatter's brain control chips whilst he had the master one. He had caught the Hatter a while ago and removed and analysed the chips and found out how they worked. The drug he had injected had removed what little self control the guard had, to allow him to direct him.

People often saw what they expected to see. Jaws had been expecting Batman and had seen a controlled guard in a cape and cowl. It had been a matter of seconds to take the place of the other guard and follow along dutifully behind Jaws and right into the highly fortified control centre.

Now all he had to do was take out the guards and Blofeld and stop the nano-droids.

BOOM!

There was a huge bang from outside the door and the whole pyramid shook.

He opened the door and was shocked at what he saw…

Where before had been a buzzing control centre with technicians and armed guards was now a scene of devastation. In the side of the pyramid was a huge hole and bits of rock and rubble was piled around him.

And standing in the middle…

Alvey.

"Batman," said Alvey. His eyes glowed blue as he x-rayed him. "Or should I say Bruce Wayne."

Alvey seemed to flicker and in a fraction of a second he was holding Batman by the neck. "I always wanted to be better than you, Bruce, and now I am."

The Kevlar gorget stopped him from passing out from the stranglehold. "You don't know what you're doing." As final words these were rather poor he had to admit.

Suddenly his feet were not touching the ground and he was flying, held up by Alvey.

"Oh but I do, Bruce, I do." said Alvey. "I'm going to see how much oxygen there is at 90,000 feet."

The wind was whistling past Batman's ears and he could feel his ears popping and the air get colder and colder as they got higher and higher. He shuddered as they flew through clouds.

"I'm going to let you go and see how you fly, Bruce…"


	26. Skydiving without a parachute

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Twenty-Six**

James Bond stumbled over a tree root and threw out his right hand for support from the tree. He missed, tripped again and fell over heavily. He lay there for a moment measuring the noise he must have made. It couldn't have been much, considering the noise the soldiers were making.

The rumbling from the tank was getting closer. The soldiers were keeping their distance and relying on the tank to run him to ground. They had been stung too many times by his gun.

A hundred yards away he could hear the river. Possible safety? Possible trap? Were they herding him towards it? Like a lamb to the slaughter? He was filthy dirty, the sweat running down his face carving rivulets through the mud and blood. His arm was giving him a dull ache where he had cut it on the glass escaping the helicopter. Blood was seeping through the makeshift bandage every time he used his arm.

He knew what they were doing. Leading him away from Blofeld. The mission; that was what counted here, not his tiredness, not his wounds. Batman would not do what was needed. Kill him. Blofeld was like a rabid dog, you don't arrest rabid dogs; you kill them and hope you don't get bitten.

God, he could do with a drink. A bourbon chaser would go down well, in Brown's, his favourite club. This was just another roll of the dice to him. He could already see the table set up for poker. Mary Goodnight sitting opposite him giving him her little smiles that said so little but promised so much.

Get up, you bloody fool. Concentrate! Concentrate!

He was suffering from shock. Or was it a breakdown? He'd seen it enough times to recognise the signs. Loss of blood. Stress. Dehydration. All he had to do was keep his mind and eyes in focus. A shadow appeared for just a fraction of a second in front of him and his gun kicked in his hand. The shadow fell back, the gun of the soldier clattering noisily against the tree. Bond's promise to Batman to not kill any soldiers had gone the moment they had started shooting at him.

"¡El está aquí¡El está aquí!" _He's over here! He's over here!_ they shouted.

Damn.

The tank got closer.

Bloody hell.

Bond forced himself through the thick undergrowth, scratching himself on plants and getting tangled in webs.

The overwhelming smell of faeces and urine invaded his nostrils. He had reached the edge of a village. Damn, it was hidden well in the jungle. He hadn't even noticed it.

He was losing it. Losing it bad. He had stumbled straight into a village.

He had to get out. Quickly, otherwise they would trap him like a rat here.

The screams and shouts of villagers erupted around him as he ran through the wooden huts. Pigs and chickens snorted and snuffled about him as they tried to get away from being trodden underfoot.

God damn it! Get out the bloody way!

Soldiers burst into the village behind him. "¡Párelo¡Párelo!" they shouted. _Stop him! Stop him!_

He pushed a villager out of the way. One of the male villagers, a huge man, hacked at him with a machete. Several women were screaming shrilly around him.

Bond might have been exhausted but he learnt how to deal with this sort of threat in the first week of Intelligence training. He shoulder-charged the man to get under the swing and elbowed him in the throat. Another villager pointed a musket at him that must have come to South America with Cortez and the conquistadors.

Bond rolled and the musket ball whistled over him and threw out a big splinter from a hut door. Like a cornered animal, Bond leapt at the man and used his pistol to bludgeon the villager unconscious.

He snarled and swore like a rabid dog at the other villagers to get out of his way. The tank was crashing through the edge of the village turning their houses into so much matchwood.

"¡Párelo¡Párelo!" The soldiers ran towards him, their guns to their shoulders.

The back of his head seemed to explode and he crashed to the ground. His vision was lined with black dots and the last thing he saw before he fell unconscious was one of the women raising a stick to hit him again…

* * *

Alvey flew up higher and higher, Batman held in a vice-like grip. The air was getting thinner up here and condensation was forming on both of them. Batman's black cloak swept downwards, fluttering in the slipstream, almost like the Angel of Death had claimed Alvey and was carrying him to the afterlife. Bruce hadn't said a word to him.

Not one.

He was expecting him to at least plead for his life. Or his precious Gotham. Who would have believed that Bruce Wayne was Batman? I mean he had everything. Everything.

Money.

Power.

Family.

Everything that Alvey never had. Was never born with. Everything Alvey had ever craved. Why would he risk it all defending Gotham from the pyschos like the Joker and the Riddler?

Actually he didn't have family, did he?

Like Alvey didn't have family, he lost his to some petty thugs. Was that why he did that? To avenge his lost family? What did Alvey do to avenge his family?

He killed.

Did that make Alvey better than him? Or did it just make him another criminal?

He had killed Speen. Did that make him better than Bruce?

He didn't like where his thoughts were leading him. He thought of Marie, his wife, and Jack, his son. Cut down before he had lived. Would killing Bruce bring them back to him?

No.

Nothing would bring them back to him. Not even these nano-droids that infected him like a plague and gave him the power to exact his revenge.

He floated high above the earth, pondering what he was about to do. He was too far down the rocky road to turn back now. There was nothing now to turn back to…

"Goodbye Bruce. The last thing you will think of is that I'm better than you," said Alvey. He gave a small smile. "By the way, I thought bats could fly?"

He dropped Batman from 15,000 feet and watched as he plummeted to his death.

Thwip! Thwip!

Something wrapped around Alvey's ankle. He looked down from his god-like stance to see a cable wrapped round his ankle.

Batman!

He pulled the cable up so he and Batman were face to face. Batman punched at Alvey but it was like punching steel and just as painful.

"You just don't get it!" hissed Alvey. "I'm better than you!" He tried to punch Batman but the masked man dodged it and kicked away from Alvey, wrapping the cable round his neck and spinning around him, wrapping him in steel cable.

"Eeuurrrgghh!" Alvey gasped in shock as the cable wrapped round his neck and then had the full force of Batman pulling down on his neck. His vision went black for a few seconds. Despite his invulnerability and super strength he still needed to breathe occasionally.

They both plummeted from the sky with Batman still tied to Alvey. While they were falling Batman twisted acrobatically in the air and landed on Alvey. Before he had a chance to recover he put a small plastique charge in his mouth and pushed away, still holding on with the cable.

BANG!

The small charge exploded, stunning Alvey for a few seconds. They were still falling. Batman pondered his situation. It had not improved. Alvey would undoubtedly survive such a fall but he would not. He spun around to Alvey and attached one of the Hatter's mind control chips to his head.

Would it even work on such a being?

The circuitry in the chip surrounded his head with signals that altered his alpha brain waves. Batman had the controlling chip in his cowl.

"Induce trance and hover," said Batman, trying not to look at the jungle getting closer and closer.

Nothing.

"Induce trance and hover," he shouted.

Still nothing.

"Induce trance and hover, godammit!"

* * *

Bond awoke to a bucket of cold water being emptied over his head. He coughed and spluttered and tried to wipe his eyes, but then realised they were handcuffed painfully above his head. There was a bright light in front of him and he could see two silhouettes of men in front of him. He looked about himself to orientate himself. The floor was decaying concrete, full of cracks and little puddles of water and dark stains that he did not want to dwell too much on. He was attached to a hook in the ceiling. To his left he could see several manacles and what looked like bullet holes and splashes of blood. There were a few bits of graffiti daubed on the walls and a picture of a dove flying free of chains that looked like it had been painted in blood.

A regular holiday home.

Standard interrogation technique. Despite all the training he had, nothing could prepare you for being tied up, tortured and interrogated. There were two soldiers in front of him. Both of them in jungle uniform. One of them had a notepad and pen. In the corner of the room he could see a pile of his equipment and his gun.

One of the men pulled up a huge pair of rusty pliers and started clicking it slowly in front of Bond's face. "What is your name?" the man growled.

"Dick Van Dyke."

There was the sound of a pen on a notepad.

"Don't be stupid, that's not his name."

"But he said…"

"We know he is James Bond, this is called the opening gambit of an interrogation. We ask them easy questions they can answer, like name and favourite colour, and throw in one we really want like: where is Batman?"

"Oh right, sorry…" There was silence. "Should you have told him your plan?"

"I don't wish to be a bore here," said Bond. "But I am thirsty, could I have cup of tea?"

"Answer questions first, then tea."

"Okay, okay."

"What is your name?"

"James Bond."

"What is the American government doing about…"

"Woah, woah!" said Bond. "I've answered your question. Where's the tea?"

"Get him a tea…"

"We only have coffee."

"I've got some tea in my bag," said Bond, gesturing over with his head to where his equipment was piled up. "Third pouch on the belt."

"Don't be stupid, it's a trap," said the first soldier.

"But you said you would give him a tea if he answered your questions."

"It's just some tea," said Bond. "An Englishman abroad always takes tea with him. You just can't get proper tea outside the UK."

"He's right, you know," said the soldier with the pad. "My mother took me to London as a child and they have whole sections of a supermarket devoted to tea. I never knew there were so many different kinds. I did like Darjeeling when I was out there; do you like that, Mr Bond?"

"Well it depends," said Bond. "If you have a bit of time for it to brew I find Darjeeling very nice, but for preference I favour Ceylon for the afternoon. For breakfast you can't beat English Breakfast tea. It's a good strong way to kick-start the day."

"What tea have you here, Mr Bond?" asked the second soldier. He opened up the pouch and was immediately blown back by a stun grenade; his colleague was similarly knocked out by the blast.

Bond didn't have time to think of a quip, he was too busy looking at his handcuffs. First things first; get them out of the hook. That explosion would soon attract attention.

Bingo. He could hear the sound of running boots outside. He raised his feet to the ceiling until he was hanging upside down and grabbed hold of the chain with his boots. He raised his hands off the hook, still in the handcuffs and dropped none too gently to the ground.

A guard came running in the room. Bond rolled to his feet and punched him two-handed in the stomach and shoulder-charged him into the door, which crushed the next guard coming in.

He needed keys, and quickly. He checked the guards he knocked out with the stun grenade and found some keys on his belt.

Damn, his fingers would not function properly at the moment. His hands started tingling as the blood ran back to his hands. Another guard came running and Bond punching him two-handed on the chin, sending him flying back against the wall. Bond picked up the AK47 and started to edge round the cell door…

BANG!

The cell door slammed shut and a laugh started echoing around the chamber. Bond looked up to see some speakers and a small camera in the corner.

"Mr Bond, glad to see you are up and about. I'm just sorry to miss the tooth extraction, I've heard such good things about it."

"Blofeld," hissed Bond.

"Do not concern yourself for the guards you have knocked out, they will die for a higher cause."

From out of a tube in the ceiling water started pouring out. In seconds the water was round his ankles.

"Don't worry about drowning, Mr Bond." The water flow was interrupted for a second and then a huge flesh eating grub flolloped down into the water closely followed by a half a dozen others. "You won't be alive to drown…"


	27. The fight continues

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far they have all been appreciated! All reviews welcome.

**Golden Bat – Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Bond tried again to get the cuffs off his hands but dropped the keys.

He swore viciously and put his hands down into the rapidly rising water to pick them up. A flesh-eating maggot swam sinuously by, its mouth a gaping maw of mouth hooks that it used to attach to its prey. It would then secrete its digestive enzymes to putrefy its prey and suck up the juices.

Maggots are gregarious animals and they were starting to shoal in groups around Bond. The knocked out guard at Bond's feet was a prime target for them and they started burrowing into him.

He tried not to look down as the water turned red as the guard was eaten, his body a writhing mass of maggots.

"Yes!" he hissed to himself as he unlocked himself and threw the cuffs to the floor. They splashed down at his feet. The water was increasing. One of the maggots started nosing round his feet. Bond stamped down hard on its carapace and there was a horrible crunching sound. A maggot started eating his crushed comrade.

He had to get out of here.

Now.

Bond looked around. The water was starting to pour out of the pipe above him and more and more maggots flowed in. He leapt up and grabbed the chain that minutes before he had been hanging from. The chain bit into his hands. He raised his feet from the water, dislodging a keen maggot that was trying to eat through his boots.

That would only buy him a precious few seconds. The maggots had skeletonized the guard beneath him and were starting to swim to the surface. Bond saw the camera in the corner. He put his feet up on the wall whilst still holding onto the chain. That reduced the pressure in his hands but he started to feel it in his shoulders.

"Very acrobatic, 007, but you're just delaying the inevitable," Blofeld said through the speakers.

If he was going to die he wouldn't let Blofeld see it. He kicked the camera and it disintegrated in a shower of glass and sparks. Sparks. Electricity. There's an idea. He grabbed a speaker by the top of the chain and threw it into the water.

There was a bang sound and a huge flash of light as the lights fused and the cell was cast into stygian blackness. The only sound that could be heard was the water trickling in.

He could see nothing…

Did the electricity kill the maggots?

Was there enough voltage to kill them?

Were more pouring in as he hung above them like a hunk of meat? He had to get into the water and somehow get the door open before he drowned. That guard had been stripped of his flesh in just seconds. Would it hurt? Would he feel anything?

Would it be best to put one toe in like a frightened swimmer wondering about the temperature of the pool? There was nothing he could do. If they ate his foot first or his head first, no matter; he was dead anyway.

He could feel the cold water lap at his hair. What happens happens. He dropped like a stone into the cold black water and immediately felt something cold and insect like glide by his hand…

* * *

At the very last second, just before Batman would have been impaled on a jungle tree, Alvey pulled up and glided down to land in a clearing.

Batman shook himself free of the line and looked at Alvey warily. His eyes were glazed and bloodshot and one cheek kept twitching. He seemed to be under his control though… Blofeld's pyramid was about a hundred yards away.

Why have a dog and bark yourself, thought Batman.

"Alvey, I want a hole in the side of that pyramid and access to Blofeld's control centre."

Alvey vanished in a blink of the eye and Batman saw a plume of smoke erupt from the side of the pyramid. In a second he had attached a line to one of the tallest trees and he swung into the ready-made hole…

Alvey was standing in the middle of Blofeld's lair, not moving a muscle, and dozens of Blofeld's troops were shooting at him. The bullets were deflecting and bouncing off him, causing more damage to the troops than to him.

As long as they weren't shooting at _him_. Batman landed with panther-like grace on a walkway. Blofeld was leading operations against Alvey. He was screaming at his men to kill Alvey.

"Alvey, disarm the soldiers," muttered Batman.

It was like a whirlwind and the soldiers winced in pain as their guns were ripped from their hands.

Batman saw one of the technicians point at his screen and talk to Blofeld. "Sir, this man is a nano-creation. With one button press we can destroy him."

"Do it! Do it now!"

Batman flicked a wrist and a batarang flew across the wrecked control centre towards the technician. Too late, just a second too late. The technician typed in the code just before he slumped unconscious on his monitor.

Alvey slumped to the floor like a puppet that had lost its strings. He looked up at the scene around him with confusion. Where was he? What had happened to him? He felt strangely alone. The voices that had followed him for the past few days were silent. He had fallen on a piece of broken glass and he looked at the blood on his hand in bewilderment. His hand was not healing.

Images flashed in front of his eyes as he remembered what he had done over the past few days.

God what had he done?

Tears pricked his eyes as he remembered his wife and his son. He had turned from a man who would cross over the street to give money to a vagrant to a monster. That would change now. The nano-droids no longer controlled him. Or were they just doing what he secretly wanted? He looked at his hand, red blotches appeared as the nano-droids started obeying their original orders. To kill him.

Alvey collapsed unconscious to the floor as the magnetic pulse controlled the nano-droids in him and started to kill him. The guards picked up their guns and pointed them at Batman.

Batman twisted acrobatically off the walkway and swung under the metal walkway. The bullets sliced and slashed past him, one taking off a pointed ear on his cowl.

Where was Blofeld? There he was: standing next to a steel door, surrounded by his guards, and who was that next to him? Catwoman!

She was tied up and struggling furiously against her bonds. The guards were having real trouble holding her and two guards were clutching various parts of their anatomy and swearing quietly.

"Not so tough without your metal-toothed friend! Don't any of you scum know how to treat a lady?"

"Batman." Blofeld's voice reverberated around the inside of the control room. "Come out or we kill the girl."

Catwoman spat at Blofeld. "If I get out of here I'll scratch your eyes out!"

Blofeld grabbed her by the hair and aimed a gun at her head. "Give yourself up and I'll let you live." Blofeld cocked the gun. "Refuse and I'll kill the girl. I can not allow you to silence my dream."

* * *

The creature next to his hand was dead… He hoped. Bond took a last gulp of air before water filled the room and swam down to where he had last seen his pack. He was in stygian darkness and could feel the clammy feel of maggots against his skin, but nothing seemed to attack him.

There it was! His bag. He knew he had a waterproof shaped charge in his bag. Specially designed to blow out locks. There it was; it felt like a saucer. He could feel the fuse he had to rip off to activate the five-second timer. Would it work underwater?

Only one way to find out. God, it was difficult to navigate underwater. Bond was an experienced diver but even he preferred to swim in the light. Where was the door? His lungs were starting to feel like he had hot coals in them as he struggled to hold his breath.

The door, where was the door?

There it is! He felt the familiar shape of the handle. He only had one chance at this. He slammed the shaped charge onto the handle and pulled the fuse. He tried to kick away from the door but exhaustion and lack of oxygen was affecting him.

Just hold on another few seconds…

Foom!

Bond saw a small of flash of light as the charge exploded. Then nothing… This was it, he would be dead shortly. Would anyone ever find him?

There was a cracking sound and the door caved in under the pressure of tonnes of water. Light poured in as the water poured out and he was swept out into a stone corridor.

Bond coughed and wheezed and struggled to get air into his abused lungs. He choked and spluttered and coughed out a lungful of water. Gradually the spots disappeared from his vision. What was going on up the stairs. Bond walked back into the cell and picked up a waterlogged gun from the floor.

Would it work after its immersion? Well only one way to find out, he could always threaten people with it anyway. He crept up the stone stairs to another door and saw Blofeld pointing a gun at Catwoman. The guards were concentrating on Batman. A sodden, battered Bond hit Blofeld with the gun and grabbed, ripped the gun out of his hand and got him in a neck lock. He pointed the gun at the back of Blofeld's head.

"Drop your guns," he hissed to the guards. "Now!"

There was a clattering sound as the guards near him obeyed. Outside could be heard the sound of helicopters.

They sounded like American Cobra attack helicopters, the cavalry had arrived. Bond looked at his watch. The people in Gotham had mere minutes left to live…

"Turn off the nano-droids in Gotham now."

"They are beyond my control now…"

Bond ground his gun into Blofeld's head, making him wince in pain. "You're dead anyway, I want you to know that. Do you really want a million souls to join you?"

Blofeld sighed reverently. "I always wanted to make my mark on the world."

Bond clicked the gun. "I'll make my mark through your head."

Batman grabbed Bond's arm. "Killing him won't make any difference." He had released Catwoman who was rubbing her wrists and giving Blofeld a look that could curdle milk. In the distance could be heard gunfire. This time, the sound of American troops in action. Out of the hole Alvey had broken in the pyramid could be seen an attack helicopter. The black ropes dangling from the side door showing that it had just discharged its troops.

The sound of gunfire was getting closer to the pyramid as the American troops efficiently surrounded the pyramid to stop anyone escaping, then destroyed their defences.

"He killed my wife," said Bond. "He deserves to die."

"He deserves justice," said Batman, one hand on his shoulder.

"I'll give him justice, the justice of a gun. Call off your nano-droids now!" Bond grabbed him by the collar and shook him like a rat. Blofeld's only answer was to laugh.

One of the technicians hesitantly raised a hand. "Sir." Bond whipped the pistol over to face the threat. "Sorry sir, but we can still send the magnetic pulse. I can't guarantee it but it should shut them down. All of them." The technician emphasized the nano-droids in the magnetically sealed container behind them.

"You will die for that, you traitor!" screamed Blofeld.

"Better on my own than with company," said the technician. His hands were a blur as they flickered across the keyboard.

On a map on a huge plasma screen above them could be seen a map of the Eastern seaboard of America. A huge red splodge like an ink stain could be seen slowly creeping forward like plague. A green circle erupted from Gotham spreading rapidly outwards until it covered, barely, all the nano-droids. In seconds the red splodge turned green and then a few seconds later it disappeared.

"Have you disabled them?" said Batman, looking at the screen.

"Something slightly better," smiled the technician.

* * *

Several American military helicopters landed around the burning wreckage of the pyramid. Felix Leiter ran out of the nearest one towards Bond and Batman. Around them the sound of shooting was dying down as the American marines attacked the last of the holdouts.

"Hey Bond, looks like you guys hit pay dirt here! Geez, is that…" He motioned to the man held prisoner by Batman.

"Blofeld, yeah," said Bond.

"Alive as well," said Leiter. "Say, you want me to have an accident with my gun on the way to the helicopter?"

Batman growled at this.

"Say, take it easy big guy, just a joke." He looked at Batman from the corner of one eye and spoke to Bond as quietly as he could. "I thought he was just a myth. And is that Catwoman?" He turned to Batman and Catwoman. "You want a lift to Gotham, Mr Batman and Miss Catwoman? The American government would be mighty pleased to lay on a jet for you!"

Batman nodded at this.

"By the way, Bond, your office has been trying to call you for the past few days." He handed Bond a satellite phone. "I think you forgot to put your out of office on your e-mails or something."

"I'll call them later," said Bond, looking over at Catwoman. She smiled back at him. "Much later."

"I think you should call them now," said Leiter with a rare emphasis on the words.

Bond shrugged as they walked over to the helicopter, and dialled a number on the phone. "This phone secure?" he asked Leiter as they got in the helicopter. Leiter nodded the affirmative.

"Bond, is that you? Where the devil have you been?" came the petulant voice of M.

"There are not too many phones in the jungle, sir."

"Oh yes, well done on the Blofeld case by the way; we've just heard the details. It seems like everyone in Gotham and the Eastern seaboard is safe. In fact we are getting strange reports from the hospitals of people who came in with cancer or with lost limbs who are now perfectly well! They're calling it a miracle. The American government is most impressed as is the Prime Minister. He wants to recommend you to the Queen for a knighthood."

"Well sir, as you know…"

"You're to refuse, politely this time, you're no use to me with a gong; you wouldn't fit in properly. Besides the hotels would charge you double and I'm not having that on the expenses account. The last prime minister was not happy at being told where to put the knighthood, and in such graphic detail as well."

"Well sir, my wife had just been…"

"Are you well by the way? Not injured at all? Nothing that needs a hospital visit?"

"A few cuts and bruises but otherwise…"

"Good, you're to make your way to Tahiti immediately. I've liased with the CIA to lay on a flight; by the way you can write your report on the flight."

"A two week holiday would be…"

"This is not a holiday, 007! Our station out there has spotted Yuri Gregorovitch meeting some unknown associates."

Bond's face darkened with rage and his hand clenched the phone so tightly you could see his bones through his skin. Gregorovitch; he had personally killed three 00 agents. He had a score to settle with him.

"I don't need to tell you this is the first time he has been seen in three years. The Russians are itching to get hold of him and we know they have already sent an assassination squad. How can I put this delicately? I want you to find out what he is doing out there before the Russian's get there and terminate him. You'll liaise with 003 out there. She's been given the details. We'll discuss this later."

Bond nodded at this. "Thank you sir, goodbye sir." He put the phone down and sat back in the helicopter seat as they flew over the jungle. Around them in a convoy were three cobra attack helicopters.

Bond felt physically exhausted. He had been pushed to the limit of his endurance too many times in the past few days and he was shattered. He felt if he closed his eyes he would sleep, and that was what he wanted more than anything else at the moment. He opened one eye to see Catwoman smiling at him. Well maybe not more than _anything_ else.

"Well, it looks like it is goodbye," said Bond to Batman and Catwoman. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at goodbyes."

"Thanks James," said Catwoman. "It's been a real blast, you look me up when you are next in Gotham, you hear?"

"I will; and Batman?"

"Yes."

"Thanks for the help." Bond wasn't good at small talk.

"No problem. If ever you are in Gotham again look me up before you start shooting, okay?"

"If I can."

When they left the jungle behind them Batman's communicator started buzzing. "B this is A?"

Batman was so relieved to hear his voice he almost said his name. "Alf… I mean A. What's the news; is R okay?"

"We are both in good health, sir. I trust you are well as well? In fact my arthritis has gone and Master Tim… I mean R, says his acne has cleared up. I'm afraid to say that in the confusion the Joker has escaped… Robin is on the trail though but I have advised him to not engage him until you are back. I hope that was right, sir? Will you be back soon sir?"

They were flying over the clear blue sea and in the distance was the USS Enterprise, a huge Naval Aircraft carrier. The sun was shining overhead. Batman closed his eyes and just soaked up the sun's rays. For just a few more hours he would enjoy the sun before he would be back in the perpetual twilight of Gotham's dark streets.

For both of them lived for the storm and the sun could be but a momentary distraction.

The End


End file.
